


A Knife to the Throat

by deluminatormischiefmaker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Luna Lovegood, Black Hermione Granger, Camping, Canon Typical Violence, Christmas Party, Dumbledore's Army, Fluff, Gay Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Characters, LGBTQ Themes, Legilimency, Lesbian Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy friendship, M/M, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Occlumency, POC Harry Potter, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Patronus, Pining, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 82,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deluminatormischiefmaker/pseuds/deluminatormischiefmaker
Summary: Draco Malfoy has always been the boy without a choice. When he finally gets the chance, he picks The Chosen One.Set in Deathly Hallows, with a few alterations. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione get caught by Snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor, Draco decides to join their cause. The usual camping trip, but with a few tag-alongs, several detours, and quite a bit more romance.





	1. Malfoy Manor

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially just another fic where Draco camps with the trio. You can ignore these notes if you want, because Harry goes over this in the chapter. But just to be safe, here's the timeline of this alternate Deathly Hallows, because it's different from canon:  
> Harry, Ron and Hermione start their life on the run at Bill and Fleur's wedding, in July, just like in canon. When they decide to stay at Grimmauld Place, Kreacher is able to bring them the locket, so there was never a need for them to break into the Ministry. They are seen by Death Eaters and have to go on the run much earlier. Ron is still driven away by the horcrux, but is able to find them again after a much shorter time. Snape still brings them the sword on Dumbledore's orders, but much earlier in the year. (Why he waited so long has always been a mystery and seemed kinda stupid to me) SO when this story starts, it's only October, and Harry Ron and Hermione get caught by snatchers just like they do in canon- because Harry says "Voldemort" when the name is taboo.

Harry’s face slammed hard onto the concrete floor, his arm bending behind him at an uncomfortable angle. He and Ron had just been tossed down a flight of stairs, and he was lucky nothing had broken.

“Hermione, no!” Ron was shouting, scrambling upwards and chasing after the Death Eater that had tossed them down into the cellar. The cellar door shut behind him, and Ron pressed as close as he could to it, calling desperately for Hermione.

Harry could hear her screaming upstairs. He tried not to picture her being tortured by Bellatrix, didn’t want to know the price his friend was paying for him, but he could hear everything.

Ron was losing his mind over her.

A small hand pressed on Harry’s arm, and he looked up. The dark room was still nearly impossible to see in, but what little light it held reflected off of the slight figure’s long blonde hair.

“Luna?” Harry asked, shocked, and she nodded.

Luna gripped Harry’s hands and helped him to his feet.

“How are you- what are you-”

“They captured me in September,” Luna whispered, “Took me from the Hogwarts Express. They’ve been holding me to keep my father in line. So they can control the Quibbler.”

She sounded heartbroken. Harry had never heard her dreamy voice like this. As if by instinct, Harry reached out and hugged her. He didn’t remember if he had ever hugged Luna before. Surely, he thought, he should have done so before now. Luna rested her head against his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Luna asked him.

Harry sighed. “I’m fine. We just need to get out of here.” He hated that Luna was here, that she was a prisoner too, but he was so glad to see her that he felt like crying.

They broke apart, and Harry immediately searched the cellar.

  


The basement prison of Malfoy Manor was cold, damp, and impenetrable. It was a wide, rectangular room with columns in two rows heading down the center. Harry guessed they had once held torches, because the place looked as ancient as Hogwarts. 

They could not apparate out, Luna told him she had tried. There were no windows, there was no furniture, and only the one door. It smelled like mold. There was a pile of ragged blankets and a coat, resting on the floor near the closest column to the door. Harry guessed this was where Luna had been sleeping. They had no wands, and nothing in the room looked like it would hold up if used for a weapon.

Ron was still shouting for Hermione, cursing at the Death Eaters, tears streaming down his face. 

“Luna,” Harry said, “What about you? How long has it been, have you been tortured too? Are you okay?”

Luna nodded. “Three weeks, I think.” she answered. “What day is it, Harry?”

“I don’t know, we’ve been on the run,” Harry answered honestly. “It’s October.”

Luna lead him over to the pile of blankets and they both sat down. Harry found it very hard to relax, knowing that Hermione was upstairs, but Luna seemed determined that he should. Her voice, as always, was calm and dreamy, even though it was tinged with stress. Harry had missed her, and felt guilty for not realizing it earlier.

It was only a few moments more before he was bolting upright again. The door had swung open, and Hermione’s limp form had been dropped at Ron’s feet.

Sobbing, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms as the Death Eater turned and walked back up the stairs, laughing.

“She’s… she’s alive,” Ron sighed, walking over to them. “She’s just unconscious.” he made an effort to wipe his eyes on the shoulder of his sweater.

Harry and Luna scrambled to make room for Hermione on the pile of blankets. Ron sat down, placing her head gently in his lap.

“She’ll be okay, right?” he asked, looking up at both of them with uncertainty.

“She will.” Harry said, his tone a lot more confident than he felt.

Luna put her hand on Ron’s shoulder. He didn’t look away from Hermione’s face.

  


The four of them remained in the cellar for hours, and heard nothing from upstairs. Harry had expected to hear them call for Voldemort, or argue with each other, or theorize who he was. The spell keeping him disguised was beginning to wear off, they wouldn’t have much time.

While they sat there, worried for Hermione and straining to hear footsteps coming down the stairs, Harry filled Luna in on their journey so far as quietly as he could. They had last seen her at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, in late July, when the ministry had fallen, and everyone had fled in opposite directions. Snatchers had found them almost immediately, and then they had fled to Grimmauld Place. It had been the perfect hiding place, and Kreacher had retrieved the locket for them from Mundungus. Only two weeks after they came to Grimmauld Place, they had been seen. A Death Eater had tried to break in, and they had set off on what Ron had called “the camping trip from hell.” The horcrux, with no way to destroy it, began to tear them apart, and drove Ron away. He had been lost from them for a week and a half, the worst ten days of their journey so far, but he had come back. The deluminator had brought him back to them, just in time for them to find the sword of Gryffindor and for Ron to kill the horcrux.

That had only been  _ yesterday _ . Today, they learned the hard way that the name “Voldemort” was cursed- anyone who spoke the name would be found immediately by the snatchers, and in their case, dragged to Malfoy manor and tortured one by one.

  


“...and he didn’t turn me in. Malfoy. He could have, I know he knew it was me, but he lied. He said he didn’t recognize me.” Harry finished his story at last, looking to see Luna’s reaction.

“Of course he didn’t turn you in, Harry,” Luna said quietly, “he’s not all bad, Draco. He’s been taking care of me here.”

“ _Taking_ _care of you?”_ Harry spluttered, “Have you looked around, Luna? You’re in prison in a cellar.”

“There’s no need for that tone, Harry Potter,” she huffed, “I know perfectly well I’m imprisoned.”

Ron looked up from Hermione for the first time since they were reunited. “Malfoy? Helping you? How?”

“He’s been bringing me extra food, and blankets,” Luna said, gesturing to the pile they sat on. “This is his coat,” she pointed to the coat she was wearing, which Harry realized now looked worn, but still very expensive and much too large for her.

“He can’t come down to visit with them watching,” she said, “I’m afraid they’d punish him if he did, but he comes down every night to keep me company, after everyone’s asleep. I suspect he’s as lonely as I’ve been, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to,” she smiled. “We’re friends.”

“Friends.” Ron repeated slowly, and locked eyes with Harry. Luna Lovegood, friends with Malfoy? It seemed like a joke, a lie. 

Luna seemed to read the unspoken words between them. “You’ll see,” she said, “He’ll come down later, he always brings dinner.”

  


Another tense hour passed before Hermione finally woke up. She looked awful. Her eyes were bloodshot, when she opened them, and a large bruise was beginning to bloom on her chin. “Ron? Harry?” she asked, and her voice was weak.

“We’re here,” Ron said quietly, “Are you okay?”

Hermione struggled to sit up, and Ron kept one hand on her back, as if he was afraid she would fall.

“I’m alright,” she said, and her voice was hoarse and scratchy. “More importantly, I didn’t tell her anything. They still don’t know it’s you, Harry.”

The guilt in Harry’s stomach tripled. “Hermione, I’m so sorry, I-”

She cut him off. “You would have done the same for us.”

She was right, but Harry still didn’t like it.

“Luna?” Hermione asked, “You’re here too?”

Luna nodded. “They’re keeping me here to threaten my father.”

“Your father?” Hermione spluttered, “but why?”

“Daddy and I were printing support messages, for Harry, against the ministry. They didn’t like that. Everyone on our side was getting news from our paper instead of the Prophet. The Death Eaters wanted to shut it down.”

The three of them stared at Luna. Harry could not believe what everyone was giving up for him. Even Luna’s father, who he had met only once, was fighting on his side. He didn’t deserve this. They didn’t deserve to lose so much because of him.

“Luna-“ he spoke, but she cut him off.

“Don’t start doubting yourself Harry, I know that’s what you’ll say.” Luna smiled faintly. “We’re all with you. We chose this.”

“I’m sorry you’re here,” Harry sighed.

“I’m sorry  _ you’re  _ here,” Luna answered. “I wish we were all enjoying a nice picnic by the lake at Hogwarts.”

“That would be lovely.” Hermione sighed, smiling a little. Ron slid his arm around her shoulders.

  


It was a long time before they heard voices from upstairs again. Luna had shown them her supply of water in a jug, and a rusty nail she used any time she needed to cut something, although it hadn’t helped her escape. She assured them she hadn’t been tortured, though she missed seeing the sun and the sky. When she said she missed reading, Hermione brightened.

“I almost forgot! Look!” She pulled the beaded bag out of her sock.

“Blimey, Hermione! That’s brilliant!” Ron grinned. 

“We’re  _ so  _ lucky they didn’t notice- we don’t have any food or water, but here you are, Luna, we have loads of books! And extra clothes, too- maybe I can find something in here to help us escape!”

“Unless you’ve got a spare wand in there, Hermione, I think we’re stuck until someone comes down. Maybe we can knock them out, steal their wand?” Harry suggested.

“I’m sure there’s something heavy enough in there for that!” Ron said, “And even if there’s not, there’s four of us down here now. If only one person comes down, we could overpower them!”

Footsteps rang out on the floor over their heads, and Hermione shushed them.

“We can’t call him, Lucius! I beg you, please- if the Dark Lord comes here and it’s  _ not Potter-“  _ Narcissa Malfoy sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

“It  _ is  _ Potter! The mudblood and the Weasley boy have been with him!”

“But Draco didn’t-“

“Draco is a  _ fool  _ and a coward. You know he can’t stomach death or punishment, even if it is Potter. As soon as that disguise wears off, I’m calling him. Think of the reward, the praise we will receive!”

“Lucius,  _ please-“ _

A third person walked into the room behind the Malfoys.

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ call the Dark Lord on a whim!” Bellatrix rasped, marching over to them. “Where’s Wormtail? Have  _ him  _ go down there! He’s met Potter, he’ll know.” She cackled. “Have him use that arm of his for once.”

“ _ No.”  _ Narcissa said, her voice cold. “Send Draco down. He goes every night to deliver water to the Lovegood girl, anyway. He can get a better look at them.”

Bellatrix snorted. “Fine. But in the morning, the Dark Lord will be on his way back, and if that’s Potter and you didn’t call him, you’ll be punished.”

She strode away, and all four of them breathed a deep sigh of relief in the cellar below. Harry hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.

“Draco!” Lucius Malfoy called angrily. It was a moment before another set of footsteps strode into the room.

“Yes, Father?” His voice was quiet, unsure.

“Bring some bread and water to the prisoners. And when you do, I want you to  _ look hard  _ at that boy.  _ Make sure  _ he’s not Potter before you come back here and lie to me again.”

“Yes sir.” Draco’s voice was shaking.

“Good.” Lucius Malfoy said, confident, before striding away.

Narcissa said nothing. After a beat, she left too, and Harry was sure there was something unspoken passing between her and Draco, even though he couldn’t see them.

They heard Draco’s footsteps walk away in the other direction.

  


“He’ll be here soon, but I don’t think we should knock him out,” Luna spoke matter-of-factly, “Since he will be helping us.”

“ _ Helping us?”  _ Hermione gasped, and Ron rolled his eyes.

“Oh, by the way, Hermione, while you were out Luna was explaining how she and Malfoy are such great friends now!”

“He  _ has  _ been helping me!” Luna protested, “You’ll see!”

“Well,” Harry started slowly, “he did lie for us, and that’s more help than I could say I’ve ever gotten from him before.”

“You pity him,” Hermione said, and Harry shook his head. He didn’t pity Malfoy, not really- he had chosen to become a Death Eater, he had chosen to follow Voldemort. And now he had chosen to lie, to protect Harry and his friends. According to Luna, he had been protecting her too.  _ But why?  _ Harry could not explain how he felt. It wasn’t pity. 

He had seen Malfoy at the top of the tower, right before Dumbledore died. He had seen him, truly seen him, that night. It was then that all of the hatred he felt towards Malfoy had abruptly vanished. The obsession that had kept him chasing Malfoy for years had evaporated, when suddenly Harry saw the fear and pain on Malfoy’s face. Even then, with his parents’ and his own life on the line, he could not kill Dumbledore. Dumbledore had offered him refuge and Draco had  _ lowered his wand.  _ When faced with the choice of kill or be killed, he had chosen the latter. It was this moment Harry thought of now, when Luna insisted that Draco would help them. It was this moment that made Harry think just for a second that they could give Malfoy a chance, trust Luna’s word, and see what happened before they went on the offensive.

Harry didn’t know how to say any of this, so instead he said “I trust Luna. If she says he’s alright, then maybe he is. I don’t trust Malfoy, though, so I say keep your heavy objects ready for the second he decides he’s not on our side.”

Luna frowned, but Hermione and Ron nodded. They all found something heavy to hold; Ron a brick from the floor, Hermione an ancient, heavy book, and Harry a small but still weighty trunk from inside Hermione’s bag. Luna refused to pick up anything.

Soon, footsteps came slowly down the cellar stairs. From behind the door, Malfoy spoke.

“Back away. Don’t try anything, or I’ll kill you.” His voice was loud but it wasn’t confident.

Ron shot a glance at Luna before the door opened.

Draco Malfoy appeared, and now that Harry could look him in the face, he saw that Malfoy was in worse shape than he had ever seen him. He was paler than ever, and so thin his cheekbones cast dark shadows on his face. There was a bruise fading around one swollen eye, and his hair, which had always been so neat, was messy and overgrown. He wore simple clothes, and though they were clean and pressed, they did not look quite as expensive as Malfoy’s usual wardrobe. He slowly pressed into the room, tray in one hand, wand in the other, pointed right at them.

“Dinner,” he spoke very loudly again, maybe trying to feign confidence. He flicked his wand and the door clanged shut behind him. “Muffliato!” he hissed, and Harry felt the familiar hazy feeling of the five of them being enclosed in a sound-proof bubble. Nothing they said would be overheard from upstairs.

Malfoy’s demeanor changed so quickly that Harry almost jumped. He was  _ smiling,  _ but he wasn’t looking at Harry, Ron or Hermione. He was smiling at  _ Luna. _

“Here you are, Luna! I’ve got your favorite tonight.” he waved his wand again, and like a ripple of water, the disillusionment charm over the bread and water faded away, revealing four cold glasses of pumpkin juice and what had to be a roast duck. “We won’t have much time, but I wanted to talk to you about tonight, it’s-“

Luna beamed. “Oh  _ thank you!  _ How on earth did you manage to-”

“Auntie Bella,” he said her name with a grimace, “wasn’t satisfied with our, ah, lack of house elves, so she managed to procure one of her own. He looks like charred swine, but he’s a very good cook!”

“But how did you-”

“Oh, I just ordered him not to tell. It’ll be fine.” 

Harry thought it might be possible he was seeing things. Here he was, in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, with a barely conscious Hermione and a hellbent-on-revenge Ron. In front of him, though, Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy sat beside each other on the floor, legs crossed like children at a tea party, and Draco was carving a roast bird for Luna and handing it to her on a china plate. Harry, Ron and Hermione all watched, horror struck, as Luna accepted the plate and a glass of pumpkin juice, smiled lovingly at Draco, and took a long drink.

Harry thought suddenly of the time Malfoy had poisoned wine sent to Dumbledore, and by mistake Ron had ingested some and almost  _ died.  _ But what would be the point of poisoning Luna now, in front of them? Surely that wasn’t what this was. Seeing Malfoy smile like this, seeing him sitting calmly on the floor with Luna, talking quietly with her, bringing  _ her favorite.  _

“What… what the hell is this?” Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

Malfoy ignored him. “Granger,” he said cautiously, “You might be dehydrated. You could drink some pumpkin juice.” he nudged a glass in her direction without looking at her. “I do have water, too, if you’d rather…” he stopped.

Ron, after the past thirty seconds time deliberating, had abruptly sat down next to Luna. He was already reaching for the nearest plate so he could fill it with roast duck and, Harry saw now, mashed potatoes. 

Ron noticed Harry gaping at him, shrugged and said “Well it’s clearly not poisoned, is it? Luna’s already eaten some.” He tucked in to his food faster than Harry had ever seen him do. He had been complaining about the lack of good food since they left, so Harry wasn’t surprised, but… he was surprised.

Hermione soon after reached toward the glass of pumpkin juice and gulped it down, and Draco, again without looking at her, waved his wand and it refilled. He passed Ron the mashed potatoes without saying anything. 

“Malfoy!” Harry practically shouted, and Malfoy looked up. He still wouldn’t look Harry in the eye. It was more like he was looking at a place in the air to the left of Harry’s ear.

“Yes, Potter?” Malfoy drawled, but his voice lacked all of the confidence and scathing sarcasm Harry had heard from him a thousand times at school.

“What the  _ fuck, _ ” Harry said, unable to articulate anything else.

“I brought dinner,” Malfoy replied, waving a hand towards the tray.

“I see that,” Harry sighed, “Why?”

“Why? Because human beings require food and water to live, Potter.” Draco turned back to Luna and Harry choked back a retort. “Now, as I was saying, Luna, they all think he’ll be coming back tomorrow. If that’s true, we’ll have to leave tonight.”

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Luna said between bites.

“Wait, leave?” Harry asked. “Leave where?”

“Harry, I told you, he’s been helping me.” Luna sighed, looking up at Harry. “We’re going to escape, live on the run!”

Draco nodded. “I’ve already packed the list, is there anything you can think of we need?”

“Maybe some extra coats, we have three others joining us now.”

“ _ Will  _ you be joining us?” Draco asked, still not looking up.

“You mean-” Ron said, swallowing, “That you’re going to just let us go?”

“I need to get out of here. So do you. We might as well do it together, it will be easier that way.” He spoke hurriedly, as if saying it faster would lessen the hurt in admitting it.

“You’re running away from you-know-who?” Harry asked, careful not to say “Voldemort” again. 

Malfoy took a deep breath. “You may not trust me, but believe me when I say I’m just as much a prisoner here as you are.”

“You still have a wand.” Harry accused. 

“You will get yours back tonight.” Malfoy’s voice was flat. Harry believed him- he couldn’t believe that he believed him. “I understand you also lost a tent?”

“Er… yes. Yes we did.” Harry said slowly. 

Malfoy nodded. “We packed one. It’s only two bedrooms, so it will be crowded, but, you could all stay with us.”

“Dwo ‘edooms?” Ron asked, his mouth full. “Ee ‘ad a un ‘oom dend wiv a bund bed.”

Harry watched as Malfoy’s face crinkled slightly at this, the corners of his mouth turning into a snarl, and Harry knew an insult was coming. A second later and Malfoy had breathed out, the face was gone, he said nothing.

“What’s in it for you then?” Harry demanded, still standing up. “Helping us?”

“I’ve already told you, Potter.  _ I need to get out of here.  _ I can’t be here anymore, I can’t live in this house, I can’t bear anymore-“

Footsteps rang above them.

“I have to go.” Malfoy was up and at the door so fast that Harry could have sworn he apparated there. “I’ll be back at midnight. You can come with Luna and I, or not, your choice.”

With a flick of his wand, the muffliato was broken, and he pulled open the door. “...and keep quiet down here, Lovegood!” He shouted, “You’re keeping the peacocks awake!” He winked at Luna and slammed the door behind him.

“Well, that was certainly odd.” Hermione sipped on her pumpkin juice, finally taking a plate for herself. 

“If he wants to help us escape, I’m all for it.” Ron shrugged. “He’s still an ugly git and I’ll always hate him, but damn! He said he would bring our wands.”

“I  _ told  _ you.” Luna smiled, pushed her empty plate back onto the tray, and settled down on the pile of blankets with her book. 

Ron clicked the deluminator, and several stray balls of light floated in the air above them. “Don’t read in the dark, Luna,” he warned, “it always gives Hermione headaches when she does that.”

Hermione looked at him fondly, then turned to Harry. “Sit down,” she said, and finally he gave in to his hunger and took a plate.

Malfoy was right. The food was  _ good _ . Not that Harry could tell, because any normal meal tasted great when you’ve been starving. Malfoy could have actually given them bread and water and Harry would have enjoyed it. He hadn’t had bread since Grimmauld Place. 

“So, Harry,” Hermione asked, and Harry knew he was about to be told something he didn’t want to hear. “I think we should do it. You were right. I trust Luna, and even though I don’t trust Malfoy, I think we should give it a chance. It might be our only way out.”

The warm food and rehydration had already made Hermione look better. Her cheeks were back to their natural rosy brown, and though she was still bruised and tired, Harry could tell she felt better. 

“Okay, Hermione.” Harry said, and she and Luna both smiled. Ron was busy eating. Harry scrambled to get a plate before it was all gone.

Seeing Malfoy like this was strange, and different. He didn’t hate him. He still maybe wanted to punch him, or snap at him, or mock him. He still felt that heavy thrum in his chest that he always felt when he saw Draco Malfoy, the pulse of adrenaline that meant there was going to be a fight. Except there shouldn’t be a fight. He didn’t hate him. 

Harry ate his very nice meal a little bitterly. It was still delicious.

+++

When midnight finally came, Harry was still awake. Ron, Hermione and Luna had all dozed off, trying to get as much sleep as they could before the journey. Harry checked his watch, the same watch Mr. and Mrs.Weasley has given him on his birthday, and saw that it was only a few minutes past twelve. Was Malfoy coming? Was it all a trap?

As if on cue, the doorknob at the cellar door rattled. Harry stood up, and shook Ron awake, as the door started to open. Ron immediately lit the room with the deluminator and the two girls startled upright.

“You’re awake. Good.” Malfoy said, striding in. He was wearing a thick black traveling cloak, and he passed another one to each of them, along with their wands. “My Mother has so many of these. Luna, Granger, these should fit you. I have one of my Father’s for you, Weasley, and one of mine for you, Potter.”

Harry couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Thanks, are we going somewhere cold, then?” Ron asked, and Harry couldn’t  _ believe  _ how pleasant Ron was being. It must have been the food. It was definitely bribery.

“Yes, very.” Malfoy was all business, no sarcasm, no cutting remarks. “Everyone is asleep. I’ll be taking all of you to the pantry, where we will all pack  _ as much  _ food as we can carry into our pockets and bags. Luna, I have your trunk with me, so if there’s space, we can use that too. I have my own bag, with a preservatory charm on it, and that should hold quite a bit. Other than that, I’m packed. Now, Potter, Granger, Weasley. Did they take anything from you, other than wands, when they brought you?”

“No.” Hermione answered immediately. “I was able to get it all in this bag, and hide the bag in my sock.” She held up the tiny beaded bag, which made an ominous clunk.

“Everything?” Malfoy asked, confused.

“Everything. It’s got an undetectable extension charm on it.” Hermione answered.

Malfoy looked impressed. “I should have thought of that. I just shrunk everything to fit.” He turned to the rest of them. “Now, everyone cast muffliato on your shoes, I don’t want anyone waking up hearing us leave.” That explained why Harry hadn’t heard him coming.

They all did as he asked. Harry didn’t like how  _ in charge  _ Malfoy felt, but he was getting them out of here, and he had brought them their wands. With his wand back in his hand, Harry felt safe and strong again, like a missing limb had returned to him. It would have to be enough to trust Malfoy.

He lead them up the stairs, back into the room they had come from. It looked like a closet, Harry thought. The cellar had its own entry room. The entry room lead into a larger hall, the hall where Hermione had been tortured, the room where Harry, Ron and Hermione had been thrown on the floor by the Snatchers. Instead of turning toward the front of the house, Draco lead them a different way. Deeper into the house they turned, through a dining room with a very long table and a huge fireplace, more chandeliers dangling above them. Malfoy headed across the room quickly, and then through a small door in back Harry hadn’t noticed at first. This room looked more like a servant’s hallway. It was thinner, with a lower ceiling, and it was plain, not decorated in baroque fashion like the other rooms. The hallway lead into a very large kitchen. It was beaten in size only by the kitchens at Hogwarts, Harry thought, and there was plenty of room here for many house elves to work. 

Harry wondered if they had ever gotten another house elf after he freed Dobby. By the sounds of Malfoy and Luna’s earlier conversation, they hadn’t. Draco looked around quickly, worried, possibly looking out for Bellatrix’s house elf. No one came.

Malfoy marched further into the large kitchen, past gleaming silver pots and pans mounted on the wall, a giant brick oven, and another huge fireplace. The kitchen lead to yet another room, and Harry was starting to feel like Malfoy Manor was just a maze of impressive, dark rooms. Malfoy swung open another door, and this time they entered the pantry. 

Again, the room was oversized. Fully stocked, with shelves of bread, fruits and vegetables, meats hung to dry and others kept in glass boxes that were obviously charmed to stay cold and fresh.  _ A wizard’s refrigerator,  _ Harry thought to himself. There were rows and rows of shelves, with spices, herbs, and exotic ingredients. Malfoy opened his bag, and without saying a word, raced through the room, dumping what looked like at least one of everything into his bag. Harry, getting the hint, started stuffing his pockets. Ron shrunk down a  _ barrel  _ of butterbeer and another of pumpkin juice, stowing them in his coat. Hermione was casting cushioning charms on glass jars of ingredients before dropping them into the beaded bag, and by the lack of noise, Harry knew none of them would be breaking. Luna had a dried rack of ribs in her hands and was stuffing it into her trunk.

It took several minutes, but as soon as they had as much food as they could  _ possibly  _ carry, Malfoy motioned for them to follow. He lead them back through the kitchens, and into another room with long, high windows. There was a door leading outside, and a sitting area near it holding boots, raincoats and umbrellas. The walls had many hooks, and there were shovels, spades and gloves hanging from them.

“We’re going through the gardens. We can’t apparate until we’re out of the grounds, they’ve put up  _ tons  _ of wards.” Draco explained in a whisper, quietly unlocking the door. “Follow me.”

The five of them traipsed out into the garden, and Draco locked the door behind them, speeding forward to lead the way again. There was a long gravel path leading forward, and neatly trimmed hedges all around them. They passed a bubbling silver fountain that glowed from within, several fragrant rose and honeysuckle gardens, and an iron gazebo surrounded by fairy trees. Harry couldn’t see where the trail ended. The night was chilly, but everything in the garden looked immune to the fall temperature, blooming as if it were spring.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white and a squawk, and all five of them jumped. A large albino peacock had landed in front of them, it’s tail spread out above it. The bird was blocking the entire garden path.

“Go back to the front lawn,” Draco hissed at it, still keeping his voice low. “Get out of the way!”

The bird did not obey. Instead, it cocked it’s head to the side and studied Draco with one eye.

“Vladimir! I  _ said move!” _ Draco stomped hard on the ground in front of the bird, but it only continued to stare.

“You’ve got-” Ron sounded like he was barely keeping himself from laughing “A huge white peacock named Vladimir? For a pet?” he grinned at Harry, and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“I didn’t name him!” Draco hissed, “And there’s a whole flock of them, but  _ this one  _ is the only one with an attitude problem. Now move!” he said firmly, and sent a little spark of light from his wand at the bird.

This was the wrong move. The peacock’s tail folded back down, and it puffed out it’s chest and raised it’s head.

“Oh no,” Draco started, dread in his voice, and the bird  _ screamed. _

Harry could never have guessed that peacocks could make such a frightening and weirdly human-like sound, and it wouldn’t stop. The bird took flight, cawing and screeching towards the manor. 

“RUN!” Malfoy shouted, and took off at a sprint through the garden. After the first bird started screaming, the others  _ all  _ joined in. Harry had the urge to cover his ears it was so loud, but he had to keep his hands in his pockets or he would lose all the food. They sprinted together deeper into the gardens, where the trees started growing thicker and closer together.

The sound of the birds kept getting louder, and then Harry realized the truth. It wasn’t the birds. It was an  _ alarm _ . Too late he heard the shouts of other people coming from behind him. The Malfoys- or worse, the Death Eaters- knew they had escaped. 

A man’s voice called “He has the prisoners! Get them!” over the din, and the five of them all sped up, lungs and legs burning in the cold night air. Harry felt like he had never run so fast in his  _ life. _

To his absolute horror, it was Bellatrix that was gaining on them, with more Death Eaters trailing behind her. “I found them!” she called, cackling. “They’re trying to make it to the back gate!”

A curse passed so close to Harry that he felt it singe off part of his hair as it sped overhead. Hermione shot a well-aimed jinx over her shoulder and a man’s voice wailed. All of them were shooting hexes now, barely glancing behind them long enough to aim, with Luna and Draco trying to hold up shield after shield. 

“Almost-  _ protego! - _ there!” Malfoy called to them, shoving a stray tree branch out of his way.

Harry’s expelliarmus finally hit Bellatrix, and she screamed with rage as her wand flew up and out of her hand, forward through the air, and right into Harry’s grasp. But if anything, the rage seemed to help her speed up. Bellatrix was gaining on them quickly now, and if they didn’t hurry, she was going to catch them.

Luna stopped, spun around, and hit her with an amazing leg-binding jinx, and Bellatrix toppled to the gravel. Luna whipped back around and kept running.

“Badass!” Ron grinned at her as she caught up, and Luna beamed.

Bellatrix let out a guttural wail of rage, flinging gravel and scraping her hands against the rock beneath as she tried and failed to stand up. “Blood traitors and filth!” she spat after them, her voice echoing through the garden. “I’ll flay all of you alive!” 

Finally Harry spotted a metal gate in front of them, surrounded by tall brick wall for as far as Harry could see. Draco raised his wand at the gate, shouted something in latin, and it sprung open. He practically fell through it, and in the safety of the woods on the other side, shouted, “Everyone grab hold!” 

All of them rushed through, reaching for him- they all had to touch him if he was going to apparate them out of here. Harry grabbed an outstretched hand and spun around, just in time to see Bellatrix, crawling quickly toward them, a horrible grin on her face and a knife in one hand.

“Traitorous worm!” she shouted, her face contorting in rage. “I knew you weren’t worthy of the Dark Lord!” and her knife flew through the air.

With a lurch, Draco turned on his heel, and all of them gripped tight, ready to disappear. Harry screwed his eyes shut tightly. Just as the five of them fell into blackness, Harry felt a yank on his arm and heard a horrible squelching sound. Something splattered across his face.

Even in the spinning whirlwind of darkness and pressure, Harry knew the smell of blood when it hit him.

+++

  
  



	2. Like Blood on Snow

   Harry’s head was throbbing. He was  _ freezing  _ cold, so cold he could feel pain when the wind whipped across his face. Where was he? Had he passed out?

  The pressure of someone squeezing his hand brought him to reality, but his head hurt  _ so bad  _ that he just couldn’t bear to open his eyes.

  “...that was the last of it, Ron, I don’t know if we have anything else!” Hermione’s voice was high and worried.

  “We can wrap it! We’ll have to! Don’t we have some muggle things?” Luna cried, and she was closer to Harry than Hermione was. Over the whistling of the wind Harry could hear someone sobbing.

  “Check on Harry!” Hermione called, and someone slipped their hands under Harry’s head. He groaned.

  “No blood,” Ron said, “He was just passed out, but he hit pretty hard.”

  Ron set him back down gently and then tried to pry his hand loose from whoever was holding him. “Damn,” he said, giving up. “I guess I’ll just let him hold on, then.”

  “I’ll set up the tent, we can get them inside!” Hermione said, and Harry heard running footsteps. Luna, whose tiny hands he recognized immediately, put one hand on his forehead and whispered a long string of words. Harry’s head started to feel better.

  It was another long moment before it stopped hurting, and then Harry realized what happened. 

  He shot upward, almost colliding with Ron, and looked around.

  It was Malfoy holding his hand, white knuckled, as if they were still in the middle of apparition, and Harry saw at last what was wrong. Blood had soaked Malfoy’s shirt and his neck, pooled under his head, and was staining the rocky ground underneath him.  _ The knife.  _ There it was, lying on the ground right beside Malfoy’s face, which Harry saw now was covered in tears.

  “It’s okay, Draco, it’s okay!” Luna was saying. “You’re not bleeding anymore, we got it, you’re going to be okay.”

  Malfoy opened his eyes to look at Luna, and Harry saw nothing there but fear. He was still sobbing.

  “What happened?” Harry asked, unable to turn away, noticing now that the blood was seeping into Malfoy’s hair from the ground, as dark as blood on snow.

  “Bellatrix,” Ron said, standing up now. “Malfoy took a knife to the throat for you, mate. She would have hit you between the eyes.”

  “But-” and Harry remembered. He had already closed his eyes when Malfoy had pulled, hard, on his arm right before they apparated. Had he pulled Harry behind him? He had  _ saved Harry’s life, again? _

  Luna was pulling bandages and ointment from a little red box. Muggle First Aid, from Hermione’s bag, no doubt. Harry watched as she unravelled a long roll of gauze and began to wrap it gently around Malfoy’s neck. He hadn’t looked directly at the wound until now. A deep, ragged wound, still raw and barely healed, was at the base of his neck, right where the clavicles met his sternum. He flinched hard when Luna put the gauze over it, and Harry and Ron flinched too- it was very obvious that the thin pink skin there was still new.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Luna sighed, “I’m sure we can make some numbing potion, we just don’t have anything else yet!”

  “Hermione used the last bit of dittany we had,” Ron explained. “Remember when I got splinched? That only took a few drops, but I still have a pretty deep scar, you know. This, though. This is way worse. She made him swallow some, and then put the rest on the outside. We don’t even know how well it worked. And you saw it. We didn’t even have enough to finish healing it properly.”

  Harry looked over again at the knife, as long as his hand, soaked in blood up to the hilt. He was glad he hadn’t been awake when they had to pull it out. 

  Harry didn't realize that Malfoy was still clinging to his hand until he let go. Harry’s fingers were numb. 

  Luna helped Malfoy to his feet. His breathing was ragged, and when he coughed, Harry saw him wipe away a trickle of blood from his mouth.

  Almost immediately after he stood up, Malfoy fainted, and Ron and Luna both lurched forward to catch him. Harry stood quickly, his head spinning, and the three of them carried Malfoy to the now finished tent, where Hermione was setting up their wards.

  Now that he looked around, Harry saw that the tent was set up inside a cave. It was not at all like the cave he had been in with Dumbledore- this one was more open, with a smoother, granite floor and a large opening that let in the moonlight. It was bright out, though, and the light filtered into the cave, but it was snowing so hard that Harry could barely see where they were. It was easy to tell they were on the side of a mountain, but Harry had no idea  _ where.  _ He thought briefly of Hagrid, staying in caves with Madam Maxime, looking for giants. Where had Malfoy taken them?

  The tent was, of course, a wizard’s tent. It was large, and an almost hexagonal shape, made of shimmering black fabric. It bore outward signs of magic, too. Harry noticed a tiny pipe emerging from the roof of black fabric, issuing smoke. There was an overhang of extra fabric in the front that resembled something of a porch, and within it, a small welcome mat and two rocking chairs made of darkly stained wood. Silver wind chimes hung from the wooden poles holding the tent up, and Harry saw once they entered that the underside of the black fabric was weaved with greens and silver and gold. 

  “Merlin,  _ rich people. _ ” Ron sighed, eyeing the welcome mat. It too was weaved with silver and gold. Harry was secretly grateful to have lost their tent, because this one, he knew before even going inside, would be a thousand times more comfortable.

  He was right, of course. The tent flap opened to reveal a large sitting room, with enchanted windows which were streaming with spring sunlight that wasn’t actually there. There were two long, old fashioned couches and three high-backed armchairs, all of which were a mossy green with a golden trim. The chairs surrounded a short round table, made of the same darkly stained wood that the rocking chairs were made of. The walls were papered with a faint flowery pattern, and the ceilings were high, with a dark wooden trim. A huge, black granite fireplace took up most of the back wall, and Hermione was there, starting a fire. 

  “Blimey,” Ron said, heaving the unconscious Malfoy onto one of the couches, “This place is giant.”

  “I’ll make sure he’s okay,” Luna said, bending down to examine Malfoy. “Harry, you’d better sit down. You hit your head very hard.”

  “I’ll start unpacking,” Hermione said, “Maybe we can find something here to use for the wounds.” 

  Harry watched as she bustled toward the kitchen on his right, which looked just as grand as the sitting room.

  Ron lead Harry to a chair and forced him into it. “You alright, mate? Not seeing double or anything?”

  “I’m fine,” Harry answered. In truth he was a little dizzy. 

  “I’ll make some tea,” Hermione said from the kitchen. “But honestly we should all be resting. Ron, will you get out our clothes? Harry, you’ve got… you’ve got blood on your face. You should wash up. The bathroom is that way.” She was biting her lip, clearly worried.

  “I’m fine, Hermione. Malfoy’s the one that got stabbed.” But he did as he was told. A short hallway leading further back into the tent opened up into a wider room, again with armchairs. This one had doors leading off into separate directions, and a small table in the middle with a gleaming chess set. Harry stuck his head through the door on the right and found a large bathroom. 

  There was a huge tub with a shower, and the whole room gleamed- every surface was shining. Harry found glass bottles filled with different perfumes, soaps, and shampoos on the counter. He grabbed some at random and put them on the shelf in the shower. 

  The mirror above the sink shocked him. He looked  _ horrible.  _ Harry wasn’t sure when he had last looked at his reflection, now that he thought about it, because their previous tent had only had a closet-sized room with a toilet and sink. His hair was longer than it had ever been, down to his  _ shoulders.  _ His face was bruised and dirty, and his eyes were dark and shadowed underneath. The blood on his face only accented that his skin was strangely paler than it usually was. He hadn’t been in sunlight in so long- he was still much darker skinned than Ron or Luna, but he looked… unhealthy. Cold. His scar stood out harshly on his forehead, as if it was newer, and Harry wondered if it had gotten disturbed by all the visions of Voldemort he’d been having.

  There were already some clothes- pajamas and a robe- and clean towels in the cabinets. Harry showered in water as hot as he could stand, noting that this soap was probably the most expensive he’d ever used, considering how thick it was. He let the steam roll over his face and the hot water pound out the knots in his back. His chest felt tight. So much was wrong, even though they’d escaped. Malfoy had almost died for him. Luna had been prisoner for so long. And they were  _ friends?  _ That was still too new to sink in for Harry. Were he, Ron and Hermione just supposed to continue their search for horcruxes with Luna and Malfoy in tow? Dumbledore had insisted he  _ only  _ tell Ron and Hermione. After he had refused to tell Ginny and the Weasleys and the Order, how could he tell Luna now? And how could they even go about hunting horcruxes  _ without  _ Malfoy and Luna figuring it out? 

  Finally deciding to push away his problems until morning, Harry stepped out of the shower and dressed. The pajamas were a bit too long for him, but they were very comfortable. 

  When he reached the sitting room again, Malfoy was awake, and everyone was sitting down. Hermione and Ron were next to each other on one sofa, Ron’s hand on her knee. Luna and Draco were on the other, Luna sitting with her legs crossed, and Malfoy curled in on himself, sipping from a steaming mug.

  “Nice pajamas,” Ron grinned, looking Harry up and down. Harry shrugged, and Malfoy looked at him for a second, wide eyed, before Harry realized they were probably his.

  “Er, sorry,” he said, “I can find some of my own and change,” he suggested. Malfoy shook his head and looked back down into his mug.

  Hermione stood and insisted that Luna take the bathroom next, after all, she had been imprisoned, but Malfoy grabbed Luna’s arm. 

  “What’s up?” She asked, and he dragged her down the hallway.

  Harry sat down in an armchair by the fire. The tent was still fairly cold, as it was snowing outside. 

  “Oh, there are two bathrooms!” Luna called. “One more in the master bedroom!”

  “You two go ahead then,” Hermione answered, and Harry heard one of them padding back out of the master bedroom and into the bathroom he’d used. Once they could hear the sound of both showers, Hermione spoke.

  “How are you feeling, Harry?”

  “I told you, I’m fine. Shower helped, though.”

  “Do you… do you have a plan?” Hermione asked, and she looked as if she was scared to have said it. Last time they had all talked about Harry having a plan, it had ended in everyone shouting and Ron leaving.

  “No,” Harry sighed, “Dumbledore didn’t want us to tell anyone else. But we can’t just leave them.”

  “I told you he’d want to keep them both,” Ron said to Hermione, grinning again. “Savior Complex.”

  “Hey! It’s not-“

  “Oh shut up, Harry, you know I wouldn’t want to leave Luna.” Ron sighed.

  “But you would leave Malfoy.”

  “Harry,” Hermione started softly, “He’s a  _ Death Eater,  _ and I know he saved our lives but that doesn’t prove-“

  “We don’t need proof!” Harry protested. He wasn’t sure why he was standing up for Draco Malfoy. Maybe the aching in his scar was just urging him to fight. “He saved our lives, this is his tent, his food. Luna trusts him!”

  “But do you?” Hermione asked, and Harry scoffed.

  “Not- well- I don’t know!” Harry crossed his arms. “But we can’t just drop him off somewhere, at least not until he’s better off- he took a knife for me! I owe him at least that!”

  Hermione and Ron looked at each other. 

  “I’m not going to fight you, mate, but what’s going to happen when he gets better? What if he just calls You-Know-Who to come get us?”

  “He won’t. He’ll be killed just for helping us to begin with.” Hermione protested.

  “Oh  _ now  _ you’re on my side?” Harry started pacing.

  “Harry,” Hermione used that soothing voice she always used when he was angry, “Whatever you decide to do, we’re with you. I don’t think we should do anything at all until he’s well, though, probably not even move from this cave. But we don’t trust him. We should at least have someone keep watch on him, as well as our usual watch.”

  “I- okay. That’s not bad.”

  “I don’t want to  _ keep watch  _ over Malfoy!” Ron whined, and Hermione looked as if she agreed, but had to stick with her idea.

  “It’s fine, I’ll watch him. You two don’t want him here, it’s fine. I’m the one who owes him.”

  “We all owe him,” Hermione sighed, “I just don’t particularly want to spend time with someone who thinks I’m a mudblood, no matter how many times they’ve helped me.” Ron’s grip on her knee tightened. 

  “If he even tries to say that again, I will  _ fuck him up,”  _ Ron said, and Hermione blushed. 

  “No need for that, Ronald.”

  Harry sat back down. “We just won’t talk about the horcruxes in front of them.” Harry sighed. “When Malfoy’s a little better, we’ll apparate out of here. We’ll leave them with the Order, and then we’ll get back to what we were doing. Until then, we’ll just… try to figure out where the horcruxes are. And what they are.” He sighed again, frustrated. Why hadn’t Dumbledore at least told him more of his ideas? Surely he had  _ some  _ inkling of where the horcruxes might be.

  “Right, that sounds like a good enough plan to me.” Ron nodded.

  “What kind of plan?” Luna asked, sliding into the room, dressed in a nightgown that looked like the same material as Harry’s pajamas.

  “Nothing,” Harry said too quickly, but Hermione was smarter. 

  “We were just talking about taking watch.” She explained. “When it was just the three of us, we all took six hour shifts watching the surrounding area so we wouldn’t be surprised if anyone was coming.”

  “Oh!” Luna brightened. “And now there are five of us, so we can get more time off watch!” She said.

  “Er, Luna, you don’t need to take watch. It’s okay. And Malfoy probably shouldn’t-“

  “Harry, i haven’t seen the sky in  _ ages.  _ I would love to take watch. I’ll take the first one, and you all can rest.” She smiled so genuinely it hurt.

  “Are you sure? You aren’t tired?” Hermione asked. Luna nodded and smiled enthusiastically.

  “All right. Well- when you get in, where will you sleep?” 

  “Oh! Draco told me! There are two bedrooms, the masters’ and Draco’s room. You two can take the masters, and Draco and I can share the other one. There’s a smaller room, a powder room, I think he called it? I was going to transfigure the bench in there into a bed for Harry!”

  “Why do you want to share a room with Malfoy?” Ron blurted out, and Luna looked confused. Harry tried to ignore that blossoming  _ third wheel  _ feeling in his stomach. Were Draco and Luna dating? Surely not- but why else had she coupled Ron and Hermione, and then herself with Draco?

  “Luna, um, no offense, but we were thinking someone should keep watch on him.” Hermione started. “Make sure he doesn’t-“

  “Oh.” Luna frowned. “You don’t trust him.”

  “Well, no.” Ron sighed.

  “We trust you, though, it’s just-“

  “Harry wants to room with him. I understand.” Luna said, her frown disappeared. “I can have my own room. I just thought none of you would want to share with him.”

  “I’m sorry, Luna.” Harry said compulsively. He hoped he sounded sincere. He wasn’t sorry.

  “It’s fine. I’m off to take watch!” She grinned, grabbed a huge fur coat from the coat rack, and traipsed outside. They heard the howling of the wind for a split second, and then the tent flap closed, leaving them in silence.

  “Er…” Harry was unable to think of anything to say. It was then when Malfoy reappeared in the room. He nodded to each of them, took his mug of tea back into his hands, and left the room.

  “Weird.” Ron said, raising his eyebrows.

  Hermione stood and stretched. “Yes. But it’s time for bed. Goodnight, Harry.” She walked off toward the shower.

  “Night, mate.” Ron said, standing up and following her. He flicked his wand at the window shades, and to Harry’s surprise, instead of the shades coming down, the sunny window changed to show the dark interior of the cave outside. 

  “Goodnight.” Harry said, and Ron disappeared around the corner into the bathroom.

 

+++

 

  Harry realized as soon as he entered the spare bedroom that it had definitely been Draco Malfoy’s. It was barely smaller than the sitting room, with a couch, an armoire, and a queen size bed. The wall above it was papered with precisely organized moving posters and photographs. Harry saw from the doorway a poster of the Holyhead Harpies, a Slytherin banner, a flyer sporting a band whose name he couldn’t read, and a photo of Draco with some other Slytherins in the snow. 

  There were two bedside tables, but it was obvious which one he’d used. There was a neat stack of magazines- Harry recognized  _ Witch Weekly  _ as the one on top- and an alarm clock beside the lamp. The other was clear. One of the bedposts had an Ireland National Quidditch Team scarf tied around it, and Harry remembered suddenly that the last time this tent had been used was probably for the Quidditch World Cup. Lucius Malfoy had been in Death Eater robes that night, one of the many people out torturing that muggle family…

  And there was Draco Malfoy. Already dressed in pajamas just like the ones Harry was wearing, he was bent over the couch, tucking sheets into the corners and fluffing a pillow. He had cleaned all of the blood from his face and neck, and reapplied plenty of bandages that were now peeking out from under his shirt collar.

  “You should sleep on the bed, you’re the injured one.” Harry said, and he jumped.

  He didn’t say anything, just nodded up at Harry with sad looking eyes, and moved over to the bed. 

  “Um…” Harry felt too awkward for this. “How are you? Are you feeling okay?”

  Malfoy glared at him.

  “Can you talk at all?”

  He opened his mouth as if to say something, then made a horrible choking sound and closed it again. Looking pained, he rubbed at the bandages on his neck.

  “Don’t try to talk then, you might make it worse.” Harry said. “Do you want… um, I can get you some more tea? Would that help?”

  Malfoy shook his head and sat down on the bed.

  “Oh. Right. We should sleep. It’s nearly 3am.”

  Both of them lay down, Malfoy on the bed and Harry on the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite as good as a real bed. Harry squirmed under the covers until he thought he was comfortable enough to sleep.

  “Goodnight, then.” Harry said. Malfoy nodded and turned over, clicking off the lamp.

  There was a long silence where all Harry could hear was Malfoy’s slow, ragged breathing. He wondered if it would be possible for Malfoy to ever speak again. Maybe they could make some more healing potions, if the tent had any ingredients they could use.

  “Malfoy,” Harry said, sitting up.

  Malfoy only looked at him in the dark, his eyes reflecting moonlight so they looked silver.

  “Why did you do it? Why did you help us? Why did you save me?”

  Malfoy frowned, and then rolled his eyes and pointed at his throat. Harry imagined him saying something like  _ if I had known this would happen, I wouldn’t have, Potter. _

__ “Right, sorry.” Harry said. Malfoy continued to stare at him.

  “Well, thank you.” Harry was probably talking too much. “I don’t think I’d said. I wish… well I wish you hadn’t gotten hit. But thank you. For saving me.”

  Malfoy looked at him for a long time before he nodded slowly, still staring at Harry.

  “I don’t know any spells to help you feel better.” Harry admitted, wringing his hands. “Hermione will find something, though.”

  Malfoy looked very sad. He turned away from Harry.

  “We thought- I thought you were a Death Eater. What happened? Was it Luna?” Harry asked, but Malfoy didn’t turn back around.

  “Okay. I’m sorry. Goodnight, then.”

  Harry lay back down. Despite being physically exhausted, it took him a long time to fall asleep. His head was still hurting a little, and there was too many things he had to think about. Just as he was dropping off, he thought he heard someone crying softly, but it might have been part of a dream.

 

+++

 

  When Harry woke up, he could hear someone making noise in the kitchen, and people talking. He had almost forgotten where he was. There was Malfoy, still asleep on the bed, facing away from Harry. He stood up, stretching, his back aching from sleeping at some strange angle on the couch. The room was dark, and he didn’t want to wake Malfoy, so he crept as quietly as he could out the bedroom door.

  “Good morning, Harry!” Luna called brightly. She was sitting at the kitchen counter with Hermione, who had a slice of toast in one hand and a thick book in the other.

  “Oh, Harry, you’re up!” Hermione said, emerging from behind the book. “Ron’s just taken watch, Luna made breakfast. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving,” Harry admitted. There were eggs, sausage and bacon the likes of which he hadn’t seen since Hogwarts. He piled a plate high with food and sat down at the kitchen bar between the two of them.

  “So, Luna- you were on watch, do you know where we are?”

  “Not a clue. How did you sleep, Harry?”

  “Uh, fine I guess. The couch is comfortable enough.”

  “Why didn’t you just share the bed? It’s very large.”

  Harry grimaced. He hadn’t even thought about sharing the bed. Not that he wanted to share a bed with Malfoy anyway. 

  “How were all of you?” He asked, avoiding the question.

  “I slept well,” Hermione smiled. “This tent is  _ really  _ nice. I’ve been looking through my textbooks for potions we could make for healing since I woke up, if you’d like to help.”

  “He can’t talk, you know. Malfoy.”

  Hermione and Luna grimaced. “Well,” Luna sighed, “Maybe after he heals a little more it’ll be easier. Until then, we can try making some numbing potion.”

  Hermione shook her head. “The thing is, I’m not sure if that will help. The wound was so deep. If we hadn’t been here, he would have died. He could be stuck like this.”

  “We could take him to St.Mungo’s, after this is all over, maybe…” Luna suggested, but even Harry could tell she didn’t believe that. 

  “How was he, Harry?” Luna’s wide eyes made Harry feel guilty. It wasn’t his fault- or maybe it was his fault, Malfoy had taken the knife for him… But he would be okay. It was fine. This wasn’t like before. Harry didn’t do this.

  “He seemed… okay. I mean, he couldn’t talk, he tried, but it seemed like it hurt him when he did. Other than that I guess, normal?”

  Hermione nodded. “We should let him sleep, anyway. He needs to rest up. You too, Luna. You haven’t slept since we got here.”

  As if on cue, Luna yawned. “I’ll take that as my sign to go to bed.” and she trundled off towards the bedrooms.

  Hermione was quiet for a long time.

  “Are  _ you  _ okay, Harry?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, I mean- you and Malfoy, you’re usually-“

  Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, you think I get obsessed with him. But look, it’s fine. He’s… he’s saved our lives. We can deal with living with him for a while.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what?” Harry asked, stabbing his eggs with his fork, already frustrated.

  “Last year. When you used that spell. I know we never talked about it much, but you were… you were very upset. I just didn’t want to see you blame yourself for this too.”

  He looked up at her, and the two of them sat in silence for a long time.

  “It’s not your fault, Harry.”

  “He saved my life. Twice. And now he’s paying the price. He can’t even talk-“ Harry was surprised by how awful he felt. He’d felt guilty last night, but now that Hermione had asked, it was like all of his feelings rose to the surface, and he couldn’t push them down fast enough. “Why would he do that? He hates me, he’s always hated me, he’s supposed to be working for  _ their side _ , and now he’s, what, Luna’s friend? Why does he care now, what happens to me, to us? I mean last year I… I made his life hell. He broke my nose, remember? He almost killed Ron, and Katie Bell, and now he’s on our side? Why? Why is he helping us? Why would he- he almost  _ died  _ for me!”

  Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand. “Maybe he feels remorse.” She suggested, looking at him kindly. Harry could tell she was saying it because it was something he would say. “You’ve always been someone who wants to give people second chances. Maybe this is it. Maybe he needs that second chance.”

  Harry didn’t want to think about Malfoy and second chances and sixth year anymore. “Can’t we just… Just give me a book, Hermione.”

  Hermione sighed, and pulled another book titled  _ Moste Potente Potions  _ out of her bag, and the two of them read in silence.

 

+++

 

  Harry didn’t see Malfoy until he was getting off of his first watch at 9pm. He had been sleeping most of the day, and though Luna had checked on him, no one wanted to wake him when he clearly needed the rest.

  Now Hermione was headed out for watch, and Ron was in the kitchen, and Malfoy and Luna were in the sitting room, side by side on the couch, both scribbling in a notebook. 

  “Hey. Dinner?” Ron asked, waving a spatula at Harry. 

  “Sure.”

  “Harry, look!” Luna called, and Harry turned around to see her grinning broadly at Draco, who was holding up a slip of paper that said in quick, looping script:

_   This is how I talk now. _

__ “Oh, nice idea!” Harry said genuinely, and before he could turn around, Malfoy was scrambling to find another piece of paper to show him.

_ Durmstrang is about a mile below us, in the valley. You can’t see it from here. _

__ “Oh-“ Luna explained, “Draco was telling us where we are.”

_ My father wanted to send me to school there. We took a tour. Unplottable but I at least remembered going down this mountain. _

__ “I remember you saying something about that. In fourth year, during the tournament.” Harry said, and Malfoy nodded.

_ Potion ingredients are in the- _

  Harry wasn’t finished reading before Malfoy snatched that one away, searching for a different one. Harry could only read snippets of them as he rifled through them.

_ Thanks Luna- _

_   The trunk has all of my- _

_   I’m perfectly fine thank y- _

_   When is dinner- _

_   Tell Potter I’m- _

_   “ _ Tell me what?” Harry asked. Malfoy stopped, looked up at him with teeth gritted, and then continued rifling through his papers.

  “Tell me  _ what?  _ I’m right here, tell me yourself.” Harry insisted, reaching for the stack of papers. Malfoy leapt up at once, scooping up all of the notes with him, and backed away.

  “Fine, fine.” Harry sighed, turning toward the kitchen. He was still hungry and cold from his turn on watch, and didn’t want to argue with Malfoy. He kicked himself mentally for thinking of him as fragile. Malfoy would be fine. Ron handed him a plate, and the two of them were halfway through their dinner before Harry felt a tap on his shoulder.

  He turned around and there was Malfoy, looking nervous, pushing another note toward Harry.

_ I can take watch too. _

  “You’re injured.” Harry said, a very obvious excuse. Malfoy rolled his eyes and pointed at the note again.

  “Fine. Come on, Malfoy, you seriously think we’ll all just go to sleep and trust you while you’re on watch? Who’s to say you wouldn’t turn us in to the Death Eaters, or the snatchers, or- or you-know-who!” Harry was still having a hard time remembering not to say Voldemort.

  Malfoy looked  _ deeply  _ offended, and then scribbled out a new note so fast Harry had a hard time reading it.

_ Why would I have set you free or helped Luna or gotten the tent or food or gotten stabbed if I was going to turn around and give you back? WhatsthepointinTHAT _

__ “He’s right, mate,” Ron said around a mouthful of food.

  “You’re weirdly casual about all of this.” Harry accused, looking at his friend.

  “I mean, it’s what you said last night,” Ron shrugged. “Make up your mind, Harry. Are you going to stand up for him or argue with him? He’s not going anywhere.”

  Harry swallowed back a retort and looked instead at Malfoy, who was still holding up the note, looking furious.

  “I’m sorry.” Harry said forcefully. Malfoy seemed to debate something within himself, and then finally he nodded, lowering the piece of paper. 

_ Thank you. _

__ Harry looked at this note for a long time. “But you can’t… you can’t take watch until we’ve all agreed that we trust you to take watch, okay? You shouldn’t be out in the cold anyway. At least not until you’re a little better.”

_ When I’m healing up I can take watch, then. _

__ The note was so insistent that Harry could almost hear Malfoy’s stubborn voice saying it.

   “You can. When we trust you.”

   Malfoy seemed satisfied with this answer, and sat down next to Harry to eat dinner. Luna beamed. 

   And so it was settled- again- and there was no going back on it, no turning around. Harry had chosen. They were going to have to learn to trust Malfoy.

   Ron and Hermione seemed quicker to accept it than even Harry himself. He wondered if they had talked about this already, without him. Hermione had said that thing about guilt, and Ron had said that thing about common sense, and they had both said that thing about Harry’s need to save people. They had known Malfoy would be staying before Harry had even known.

   This was something they all talked about, when Luna and Malfoy went to bed and Harry and Ron stepped out to sit with Hermione for a while outside.

  She had conjured a jar of those wonderful blue flames, and held them in her lap as she stared out of the cave entrance at the falling snow.

  “I would love to not be on top of a mountain, you know. It wouldn’t be snowing farther south.” Ron sighed, scooting closer to Hermione for warmth. 

  “Yes, well. We didn’t pick.” Hermione said, but she didn’t seem opposed to the weather with Ron beside her.

  “Hey, listen,” Harry started, “I’m sorry about Malfoy, it’s just that-“

  “Oh, shut up Harry!” Ron said, laughing. “We knew you’d keep him. It’s fine. He saved our lives, I’m not a complete arsehole. Still don’t like him, but he can’t talk, so he can’t talk shit.”

  Hermione stifled a laugh, but Harry was stuck on the phrase “keep him.” Ron had said that last night, too. 

  “If he betrays us-“ 

  “They’ll kill him.” Hermione finished for him, her voice wary. “He has nowhere to go but here, Harry. I’ve been thinking about it and it’s just… it’s awful. I feel terrible for him. Imagine having you-know-who living in your house, terrorizing your family. I mean, we know his family is awful, but he can’t really help that, can he? He was raised by them.”

  “Didn’t really think of it like that,” Ron said quietly, sipping on a mug of hot chocolate. “Honestly, though, this is the first time we’ve had good food in forever, that was enough to convince me he’s worth keeping around.” Ron shrugged.

  “You’re too easily swayed, Ronald.” Hermione smiled warmly at him. “But you know, Harry, you told us back in sixth year that Dumbledore wanted to give him a chance and… he might be racist and prejudiced and a huge snob, but maybe he can change. We should be able to give him that chance. And it is like you said, Ron. If he can’t talk, he can’t say anything  _ awful.” _

__ Was that why Harry felt so strongly about keeping Malfoy around? Because it was what Dumbledore would have wanted?

  Harry decided not to voice any of those thoughts. Instead Harry told Hermione all about him wanting to help keep watch, and the notes, and she seemed to agree that Harry’s plan was alright. She even suggested that the next morning she could start teaching Malfoy the way to write with his wand, so that the note-writing could go by a little faster. If he was cooperative, that is.

  They talked about horcruxes next- but the same old phrases kept coming back, and they still didn’t know where to look. The cup, maybe the snake, and something of Gryffindor’s, or Ravenclaw’s, or both. The cup was the only one they knew he’d used, but they had no idea where it might be. Hermione insisted she’d overheard Bellatrix worry about her vault at Gringotts, after she’d tortured her, but they couldn’t be sure. 

  When Harry finally went to bed, leaving a Ron and Hermione that we’re sitting far too close for his comfort, he was surprised to find Malfoy still awake.

  “Oh hey. Sorry.” Harry said awkwardly. Malfoy was in his pajamas. A blue button down long sleeve shirt and pants to match, both made out of something that looked like silk. The blue only accentuated the red rims around his eyes. He’d been crying.

  “Are you okay?” Harry asked, a bit wary. Last time he’d caught Draco Malfoy crying it had ended so badly he still had nightmares about it.

_ I’m fine, Potter _

__ He wrote more slowly now. He was tired? Or was he reluctant to speak?

  “If you’re sure. Um. If you’re feeling… if you’re uncomfortable, here, with us, I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t like hanging out with us, you didn’t exactly sign up for this.” Harry just  _ couldn’t  _ shut up, could he?

_ I’m fine, Potter _

__ He held it up again, and then pulled it back down to his lap, adding hastily;

_ I made a choice to do this and I have to follow through.  _

_   “ _ Because they'll kill you if you don’t?” Harry asked, like some kind of horrible, tactless idiot. 

_ No _

__ “Then why? Please tell me, I just don’t understand why you would help me- us.”

_ Told you at the manor. Our side had it wrong. Luna needed help. _

__ “But you hate me.”

   Malfoy sat in the bed and stared at him for a very long time. Harry met his eyes- he had known they were grey. He didn’t know when he had known, but he knew. His eyes were familiar, but they were not the same eyes he had known before. Something was different about the way he looked at Harry now, something Harry couldn’t quite place.

_ Goodnight. _

__ “Okay. Goodnight then.” They were still staring at each other as Malfoy reached over to the bedside table to turn the lamp off.

  Harry tucked himself in to his makeshift couch bed, and waited for something else to happen. Malfoy’s breathing slowed little by little until finally, when Harry looked over, he was almost sure Malfoy was asleep. The moonlight streaming through the window cast a hazy glow over his pale hair, and even though he was facing away from Harry, he looked so much more peaceful in sleep.

  Harry sighed and turned over, looking up at the ceiling. 

  “I don’t hate you, Malfoy.”

  There was no reply. Harry closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.


	3. The Nightmare

    The snow was finally clearing up enough on the mountain that Harry could see down into the valley when he was on watch. He liked to pace. Sitting for hours on end made his back hurt, and on top of that, it helped him think. He was standing at the end of the cave, looking over the cliff, and he could see where the ocean met the shore. If he strained his eyes, sometimes he could see boats on the ocean’s surface. Sometimes he wondered if one of them was the Durmstrang ship, sailing toward the school.

    It was then, spacing out and staring toward the shore, that the golden, shimmering word appeared before him in the air.

    _Potter_

Harry yelped, dropping the mug he was holding, which shattered on the cave floor and spilled hot tea on his feet. “Oww…” he groaned, flicking his wand to vanish the mess.

    There was laughter coming from behind him.

    Harry whipped around, and saw Hermione, Ron, Luna and Malfoy all watching him from the tent entrance. Ron was howling with laughter, and Luna and Hermione were giggling, and in the midst of them stood Malfoy, a broad grin on his face. He waved his wand, and like a golden ribbon, words formed in the air in front of him.

    _Ha, ha._

Harry strode over towards all of them, face burning, and shoved his way into the tent. “It’s your fault we lost a mug!” he called over his shoulder from the kitchen. Ron was still laughing.

    “That was _excellent,_ Malfoy! Perfect form!” Hermione said, looking proud. Malfoy shrugged, but he had that smile that Harry knew meant he was extremely proud of himself.

    It had been a week now since they first set up the tent in the cave. Hermione had been trying to teach Draco to spell words with his wand, and it had been very difficult for him as he couldn’t speak the spell aloud. Somewhere along the way Hermione had decided she’d forgiven Malfoy, and Harry couldn’t quite understand why. He suspected that knowing something he didn’t and forcing him to learn it from her had a great deal to do with it, but Malfoy had also _apologized_ to her.

    It had been on their fourth day in the tent, and Hermione had finally gathered up enough ingredients and instructions to make a pain numbing potion. They didn’t have a huge supply, so she had suggested that Malfoy pour a few drops into some warm tea with honey and mint, and then drink that every night before bed.

    She had been right about to go on watch when she had given it to him, along with a fresh cup of tea, and Malfoy took the cup, eyes wide. He had sat quietly on the sofa for a moment, staring into his tea cup. Then he had placed it gently on the table, stood, and walked briskly toward the tent entrance, disappearing behind the flap.

    “Uh oh,” Ron had said warily, and Harry had resisted getting up and following. Luna just watched. It was a solid thirty minutes or more before Malfoy came back in. He’d nodded to them quietly, taken his tea, and retreated back to the bedroom. They heard a loud sniff from outside, and Harry and Ron had bolted to the door, tripping over each other on the way out.

    “What’d that bastard do to you!?” Ron had shouted, as Hermione wiped her eyes. She took a shaky breath and looked up at them, eyes still brimming with tears, and smiled.

    “He apologized.” she said, and Harry and Ron both spluttered.

    “What? _What-”_

    “Well, he-” she sniffed, “He came out and thanked me for the tea, and the potion, and said he didn’t understand why I was working so hard to help him, you know. And I said he saved our lives, and it was the right thing to do, and, well, it wasn’t that big of a deal to brew a potion. And then we just sat here for a while and then. He apologized.” she beamed and wiped her eyes again.

    “So? What does that mean?” Harry asked, and Ron interrupted.

    “What did he say exactly?”

    “Oh, he said he was sorry for how he had treated me all those years at Hogwarts, and for how he’d treated everyone, and the Inquisitorial Squad, and telling lies to Rita Skeeter, and calling me a mudblood, and all of it. It was quite long. He said, um,” she sniffed one more time, “He said that I had never really done anything to deserve that, and he had always been jealous of me, for being top in our year, and being friends with you, Harry.”

    “Jealous?” Harry asked, incredulous.

    “Yes. And then he talked about how last year he’d been realizing he was on the wrong side, but he couldn’t leave, or they would kill him. And he asked if I could ever forgive him. We shook hands.”

    “So you’re just… friends with Malfoy now?” Ron asked, and Hermione shrugged.

    “I don’t think we’re _friends,_ but I do think he’s all right.”

    “But you don’t forgive anyone! It took you _months_ to get over that time I thought Crookshanks ate Scabbers-”

    “Well I was right, wasn’t I!? And Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew, so apparently Crookshanks _should_ have eaten him!”

    “All right, stop it!” Harry shouted, and Ron grumbled under his breath. “So you forgive Malfoy, then? You think he’s? What? He’s okay now?”

    “I think he’s genuinely sorry for what happened in the past. You can tell he feels awful, Harry, you really can. I understand what Luna meant, now. He must have gone through a lot.” Hermione trailed off, looking out at the cave entrance. “I’m sure he saw You-Know-Who do all kinds of terrible things. The way he looked at Bellatrix that night, I thought maybe he had been tortured by her, too. Now I think he definitely had been. All of the Malfoys were considered traitors to You-Know-Who, I imagine.”

    “Yeah,” Harry sighed, “I think you’re right about that.”

    “I don’t have to forgive him too, now, do I?” Ron had asked Harry, and Harry had shrugged. Hermione laughed.

    “Well, Luna and I have forgiven him. So I guess that’s two down, two to go.”

    After that day, Draco had been almost as friendly to Hermione as he was to Luna. Even worse, Ron seemed to be opening up to Malfoy, too. Sometimes it was a bit awkward, but Harry sensed that was because of the years of open hostility in the past. It had now been three days since the apology, and Hermione and Draco had spent much of their time practicing writing words in the air. It was more complex magic than Harry had expected, but the main problem was that Malfoy couldn’t say anything out loud. Ron and Malfoy sometimes played chess together, or argued over quidditch teams. Ron had seen the Holyhead Harpies poster in their room and given Draco a very long play-by-play of the Cannons’ recent tactics, which Draco thought were terrible. Malfoy was also the first person Harry had _ever_ seen beat Ron in wizard’s chess. Hermione thought the game was “barbaric” and Harry had always had his pieces completely obliterated by Ron, but Malfoy could actually hold his own. He beat Ron once, and ever since they’d been having rematches right and left. It usually resulted in one of them storming off at the end of the game, and then begrudgingly returning, claiming they would win next time.

“He has very good tactics, Harry. His chess pieces have seen war.” Ron had said to him once, and Harry was so mad he thought he could scale the side of the mountain and not run out of energy the whole way down.

Luna and Malfoy were, of course, as close as they could be. Luna spent more time with him than anyone, and they were always sitting together by the fire, having conversations Harry could not hear. Luna would giggle and Malfoy would laugh, silently, his shoulders shaking. They would pore over books and magazines together, pointing out things to each other and laughing. And earlier that day, when Harry was cooking lunch, he had looked over his shoulder to find Malfoy _braiding Luna’s hair._

It was stupid, Harry told himself, to be mad about this, but he was mad about it all the same. Every night Harry and Malfoy would head to the bedroom and go to sleep, not saying much to each other besides “Goodnight.” Every night Harry would toss and turn on the sofa, unable to get a single good night’s rest since they’d gotten here. Everyone else seemed well-rested, and happy, and _friends with Malfoy,_ and here Harry was, waking up every morning with his back aching and his scar prickling and _not_ friends with Malfoy. Not that it mattered to him. It really didn’t matter if his friends all liked Malfoy, or if Malfoy liked his friends. Harry was definitely not jealous at all. There was no reason to be.

On the eighth morning they all spent together, Malfoy had woken up before Harry and apparently told everyone else that he felt well enough to apparate, not that Harry would know, because he woke up to Ron shouting through his bedroom door that they needed to fold up the tent, so Harry should get up already.

He rushed through breakfast, got dressed and helped take down the protective spells, and everyone else seemed cheery, but Harry was in a foul mood. His scar hurt even worse today than it had the night before, and he knew it meant something, but he was too focused on how _stupid_ it was that he felt like a third wheel _again_ that he didn’t really want to bother with what Voldemort was up to at the moment.

 

+++

 

They had apparated to the outskirts of a small muggle village, in a valley between two mountains. Hermione said it had been the village her parents had taken her to during winter break of their earlier Hogwarts years, to go skiing.

_What’s skiing?_

“Ohhh, Malfoy, wait ‘til you hear about this one,” Ron started. Another thing they had in common- the sheer lack of understanding of anything muggle. “Muggles go to the top of a snowy mountain, right? And then they strap boards on their feet, and use the boards to slide down the mountain. It’s _insane-_ I’ve seen pictures!”

 _That sounds ridiculous and dangerous._ Malfoy looked as if he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“I wasn’t particularly good at it, honestly, and yes, it is dangerous.” Hermione sighed, leading them around the village and up the mountain. “We’re going to stay up on the mountain; the ski slopes are closed until November, we’re farther south here so it hasn’t really snowed yet, and no one will be allowed up there. Ooh, and maybe one or two of us will be able to head into town and buy some clothes! We don’t have much, and we ruined a set of clothes each getting snatched and killing the horcrux and Harry almost drowning and-”

“What’s a horcrux?” Luna asked.

Harry and Ron both swiveled around to glare at Hermione, who stuttered.

“Uh, it’s… um…”

“Nothing you two need to know.” Harry said bitterly, and strode ahead.

Apparently taking this as a challenge, Malfoy marched up beside him and cast the words _Potter, what’s a horcrux?_

Harry groaned and kept walking, ignoring Malfoy.

_Answer me. Is that what you’re out here for? Why did Granger say you had to kill it?_

“It’s nothing, Malfoy, leave it alone.” Harry grumbled, and tried to walk faster. Malfoy’s legs were longer than his, though, so this did not work as well as Harry thought.

 _Is it something bad? Something to do with the Dark Lord?_ Malfoy asked, and Harry stopped.

“Why do you still call him the Dark Lord, if you’re on our side?” Harry spat, crossing his arms. He heard someone else’s sharp intake of breath.

Malfoy looked confused. _Habit,_ the golden text read, _Sorry._

“Oh, is that it then? Am I just supposed to trust you now because you said sorry, like everyone else, while you go on calling him Dark Lord and Master or whatever it is you say.”

The golden text disappeared, and so did the determined look on Malfoy’s face. He stared at Harry slack-jawed and wide eyed, as if Harry had just slapped him.

_I don’t call him that._

Harry ignored the text, turned round, and kept walking up the slope, determined not to look back.

_What’s your problem, Potter?_

The text was in front of him now, even though Malfoy and the others were behind him. Harry stopped and spun around. Malfoy’s face looked stony, and Harry remembered dueling him so many times in the hallways, for years, every interaction between them hostile.

“My _problem_ is that you think one week of sleeping in the same tent as someone makes up for six _years_ of bullshit! And you all-” he pointed to Ron, Hermione and Luna “-are just going right along with it! I guess we’re all _friends now,_ it’s not like we were fighting on two seperate sides of a war only days ago!”

“Harry!” Luna gasped, clutching her chest like a little old woman. The resolve in Draco’s face had crumbled instantly, and he looked sickly pale. Ron and Hermione looked at each other warily and then back to Harry.

“Harry, please,” Hermione started.

“Don’t.” Harry warned, and she stopped talking.

No one spoke as they continued up into the woods, and set up the tent, until Hermione began chanting the latin that meant she was putting up wards. Harry went inside as soon as the tent was set up and threw his heavy coat on the rack- he was sweating, from stress or from the warmer weather he didn’t know, and grabbed his sneakoscope to take back out with him.

“I’ll take first watch.” he announced, and no one replied, so he stormed back out of the tent and began pacing the wards’ perimeter like a caged animal. It was going to be a long few hours.

 

+++

 

    When Harry went to bed that night, he was exhausted, and started to fall asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Malfoy was not in their room, not that Harry cared where he was. He had been avoiding everyone since the second Luna had taken him off watch by sitting alone in the kitchen, buried in books, looking for any hint of horcruxes. His scar was still agitated and sore, and he had to get up early the next morning for his next shift on watch. He took off his glasses and glared at the ceiling in the dark for as long as his aching mind would stay awake.

When he fell asleep, he dreamed of Malfoy. The two of them were eleven, and had just met in Madam Malkin’s at Diagon Alley.

“Harry,” asked young Malfoy in the dream, “What’s a horcrux?” Harry didn’t answer.

Then they were fourteen, and Harry was about to walk into the maze beside Cedric and Krum and Fleur. Malfoy ran up to him from the crowd, grabbing his arm to hold him back.

“You shouldn’t go in there,” Malfoy whispered, terrified. “Voldemort is at the end.”

“No he isn’t,” Harry argued, trying to pull his arm away. Malfoy wouldn’t let him.

“You should let me go on watch, Harry. I could protect you.”

“No, you can’t,” Harry said, and he pulled his arm from Malfoy’s grasp and rushed into the maze. Just as the fog closed around him, he looked back and saw Malfoy watching him go, looking stricken.

Then they were sixteen, at the top of the astronomy tower. Dumbledore was there, silent and facing away from them. The dark mark was nowhere to be seen above them, it was only starlight shimmering through the window.

Malfoy’s wand was pointed at Dumbledore’s back, and his hand was shaking so badly that soon he would drop his wand to the floor. He turned and looked at Harry, tears in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust me?” He cried, finally dropping his wand. It snapped in two on the floor. “I’ve been trying so hard, and you won’t even give me a chance.”

Harry couldn’t answer. He was paralyzed, invisible, unmoving at the top of the tower, just where Dumbledore had wanted him to be. He heard footsteps coming up the tower stairs, and then the footsteps turned to thunder. Lightning flashed, lighting up Dumbledore’s silhouette in the window. Harry wished he would let him go. Why wouldn’t Dumbledore let him free of the spell, lift off the invisibility cloak, so he could do something? If he didn’t move, something terrible was going to happen, Harry knew it.

“Why won’t you forgive me?” a large red stain was blooming upon Draco’s chest, spilling onto the floor around them, puddling around Harry’s feet. The scenery around them lurched, and suddenly Malfoy was lying on the floor in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, soaked in blood. “Why do you hate me, Harry?” Malfoy choked on his own blood.

Harry, desperate to wake up and escape the nightmare, was relieved when the scene changed once again. He woke up in the wrong place.

Malfoy Manor was darker than it had been before. Only the low burning fire in the grate lit the dining room. He paced back and forth in front of the long dining table, where Lucius, Narcissa, and Bellatrix sat, all three of them looking at the floor.

Bellatrix had her hands in front of her face as if in prayer. “Please, please my lord, we didn’t know until it was too late, we tried to catch the boy-”

“You let him escape, Bella.” Harry said, and his voice was not his own. It was Voldemort’s, high and cold. “ _You lost your wand. You_ have seen Harry Potter many times before, _you_ should have known! At the very least, you could have killed those traveling with him.”

Bellatrix started crying. “Please, my lord, you know I aim for nothing but your pleasure, I would never have-”

“Silence!” Voldemort shouted her down, and then pointed his wand at Lucius and Narcissa. “Because of your insolence, we will now have to find you a new wand. Losing your only weapon to a _child,_ Bellatrix. You are useless. And you two,” his voice was filled with rage, “Have turned out to be worse failures than I thought. Your own son, turned against you, rescuing _Harry Potter,_ ” he spat, disgusted. “I admit, I underestimated him. I never thought he was strong enough to turn against me, but now he has. You will both be punished for his transgressions.”

Narcissa was shaking, still not looking up. Lucius looked blank, almost as if he was already dead.

“If I did not have use for you, Lucius, I would kill both of you now.”

Narcissa suppressed a sob.

“I will be sending both of you to do work at the Ministry now, under my watch, at the Department of Mysteries. You no longer have the right to this home, and if I see you here again, I will kill you. You will work to find new weapons and recruits for me, with the other Unspeakables. If I hear a single word from anyone that you aren’t performing admirably, I will be _most_ disappointed.”

“Yes, my lord, thank you.” Narcissa spoke, reaching over to clutch Lucius’ hand. Voldemort thought for a moment about killing Lucius now- he had failed far too many times- but both Lucius and Narcissa would be utterly useless without the other, he knew. Lucius was likely to die of weakness any day now, it seemed, even with her help. As long as they were out of the way, they could live. Their son, however…

“Nagini,” Voldemort hissed, and the great snake appeared across the room, slithering over toward him. She looked up in anticipation. “Fetch me Wormtail.”

When Wormtail entered the room, Voldemort smiled harshly, and Peter Pettigrew _knew_ what was coming.

“I heard,” said Voldemort, twirling his wand in his fingers, “that someone was hiding in the attic when the Potter boy and his friends escaped.”

“N-no, my lord, I-”

“I’ve had enough of you, Wormtail,” Voldemort sighed.

Harry knew what was coming, and he didn’t want to see it, he didn’t want to-

“Avada-Kedavra.” There was a flash of green light, and Peter Pettigrew’s dead body fell to the floor.

 _“Potter!”_ someone said in his ear, and Harry struggled to wake.

“And now, for the rest of you-” Voldemort rolled up his sleeves. “Crucio!”

The room rang with screams.

Harry bolted upright, almost colliding with the person who was trying so hard to wake him up. He was covered in cold sweat, his scar pulsing, bile rising in his throat. A hand squeezed his arm, and Harry gasped, looking around as they pushed his glasses carefully on his face.

“Malfoy,” Harry said, relief flooding through him. It had been hard to tell what parts of his dream were real or nightmare, and now that he saw Malfoy alive and well, it all came into focus. “Move-” he shoved Malfoy out of the way right before he bent over and retched all over the floor. He was still shaking.

Malfoy vanished the mess, and then grabbed Harry’s face, tilting his head up gently so they were looking at each other. He seemed to be searching Harry’s eyes.

 _Are you alright?_ The golden words flashed in front of him, and Harry swallowed hard.

“I’m f-fine. I was uh. I was having a nightmare.” his voice sounded worse than he felt.

 _I’ll be right back. Getting Granger and Weasley._ Malfoy turned to go, his face stricken.

“No!” Harry said, a little too loud, and Malfoy stopped at the door. “I-I mean, don’t wake them. I’m fine, really.” In truth, Harry knew what would happen if they woke up. Ron, his voice cracking, would ask who Voldemort had killed, worried it was someone they knew. Hermione would fuss over him, claiming he needed to clear his mind, that he was supposed to sever this connection to Voldemort with occlumency.

_You’re not fine. Why don’t you want them here?_

“They’ll just worry over nothing.” Harry said honestly, attempting to get up, and Malfoy rushed back over to steady him.

_You’re shaking very badly._

“I just need-”

 _If you don’t want their help, you’ll have to accept mine._ The golden words shimmered and then dimmed with a finality that Harry imagined was Malfoy’s voice.

“Okay,” Harry sighed, and he didn’t protest as he was helped up from the bed. Malfoy slung one of Harry’s arms over his shoulders, and Harry was surprised when Malfoy seemed to be holding up most of his weight as he guided Harry across the hall to the bathroom.

 _Sit._ Said the golden words, and Harry practically collapsed onto the toilet while Malfoy rummaged in the cupboards. _Are you going to tell me what that was about?_

“I don't know. Do you really want to hear about it?” Harry sighed and closed his eyes. The light in the bathroom was very bright, but at least the porcelain toilet and tile floor were cool to the touch. He wanted to just lay down on the tile until his head stopped throbbing, but he knew Malfoy probably wouldn’t allow him that.

Harry startled when a damp cloth was pressed against his forehead- it was cold.

 _Sorry, it’s cold water._ Malfoy was biting his lip as he tried to wipe Harry’s face clean with the cloth.

“No, it’s nice.” Harry said, “Thanks.” he slumped backward until his head rested against the wall. Harry wasn’t used to other people taking care of him. In fact, the only person he ever remembered taking care of him like this was Madam Pomfrey, but he could see Mrs.Weasley doing the same thing, though it hadn’t happened.

Malfoy wrung out the wet cloth after Harry’s face was no longer sweaty, and then ran hot water in the sink, getting the cloth warm again. This time he folded it and placed it upon Harry’s forehead, and almost instantly the throbbing in his scar started to slow down.

“Damn,” Harry sighed. “That worked well. How did you know-”

_You always clutch at your scar, in the mornings. I thought maybe it was hurting you._

“It- I get headaches when uh. When I’m stressed.” Harry watched Malfoy’s face for his reaction, but he looked suspiciously blank. Like his father had, in the dream. Harry shoved that away.

 _I’ve never seen a nightmare make anyone that stressed._ Malfoy said, and Harry winced. He knew he was lying, and he wasn’t going to call Harry out on it, but he wasn’t going to stop asking, either.

“I have dreams about him. You-Know-Who.” Harry explained, shutting his eyes. “It’s… it’s always been this way. I was in first year when it started, I’d get headaches any time he was near. And then later, it got worse. And fourth year, when he was getting ready to come back, that’s when the dreams started. I see what he’s doing, sometimes. Or I can tell when he’s really angry.”

 _That time you fainted in class. In fifth year, and then you tried to leave school._ The words shimmered close enough to Harry that he knew they were there, and opened his eyes.

“Yeah, that was… that was this.” he sighed. “Don’t tell Ron and Hermione, please. Dumbledore- he wanted me to try and stop having the dreams. And I don’t like them, but they’ve been… well, in fifth year, Arthur Weasley would have died if it weren’t for the dreams. I know he can get to me this way, he knows about it, but… I need it, sometimes.”

 _That’s not safe, Potter._ Malfoy’s mouth was a thin line and his face was paler than usual.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Hermione’s told me a thousand times.”

 _She’s right. You could get yourself killed. I’ve heard him talk about a connection. I didn’t know it was this… bad._ There was actually a pause before the last word showed up. Malfoy was looking away from Harry now, out of the tiny bathroom window that was currently showing the trees outside and a clear night sky.

 _Are you going to tell me what you saw?_ Malfoy asked, and he looked back at Harry now, into his eyes. Harry ran his hands along his own arms, back and forth.

 _Are you cold?_ Malfoy reached for him, but Harry shook his head.

“I… I saw your parents.”

Malfoy gasped, and then flinched, reaching toward his own throat.

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Harry said, standing up. “I can make you tea. You need some for your throat.”

Draco put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and shoved him back down. _You are sitting down until you stop shaking._

“I’m not shaking!” Harry said, but his teeth clattered together and gave him away. Malfoy gave him a stern look.

“Okay, fine.” Harry leaned back against the wall. “He killed Peter Pettigrew. For not going after us, at the Manor, while everyone else did. And he-”

 _He’s torturing my parents._ The words faded much quicker than they usually did, and Harry looked up to find Draco facing away from him, hands covering his face.

“...Yes. But I’m sure they’ll be okay. He said he was sending them to the ministry. He’s got some plan for them. He’s not going to kill them.” Harry rushed to get it all out, terrified of Malfoy’s reaction, but he still couldn’t see his face as he slid to the floor.

_I knew he would punish them. It’s all my fault. I’ve been trying not to think about it._

“It’s not your fault,” Harry said, and he reached for Malfoy this time. “It really isn’t, you… you saved our lives. You did the right thing. Your parents are going to be okay, really. They’ll be far away from him now.”

_Leaving the Manor? Both of them?_

“He ordered them to. He said, erm… he said they would be in the Department of Mysteries, I think. It’s kind of blurry now, and I just keep seeing… Pettigrew.”

 _I’m sorry you have to see all that. No wonder you talk in your sleep._ Malfoy looked up at him with eyes brimming with tears. Harry really, really didn’t want to see Draco cry. It was bad enough in the memories he had of it, in the nightmares.

“It’s not that bad. You had to live with him. I imagine that’s much worse.”

 _Yes. I have nightmares too._ Malfoy looked away from him very quickly and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.

“Thanks for… all of this.” Harry sighed. “I feel better.”

 _No problem._ Malfoy was standing up now, and he took the cloth from Harry’s head and wrung out the extra water, warming it up with his wand this time. _You would have woken me up too, if I had sounded like that._

Ugh, god. Harry could feel a blush creeping over his entire face.

“What… did I say anything?”

_Calm down, it wasn’t embarrassing, Potter._

“Well you made it sound like it was!”

 _You sounded very scared, that’s all._ They looked at each other again. _I woke up and I thought someone was hurting you._

“Why have you been helping me? Honestly? What happened?” Harry asked, and this time he thought that they had possibly been so honest with each other that Draco would have to answer.

_I told you the night we left. It was the right thing to do. I was on the wrong side of the war. I wanted out. I was leaving with Luna soon anyway._

“But you didn’t have to take that knife for me.” Harry protested. Malfoy offered him his hand, and Harry took it. Malfoy pulled him up and slung the arm over his shoulder again.

_We should get some sleep. You have watch soon._

“Answer me, Malfoy.” they walked side by side back to the bedroom, where Malfoy practically dropped Harry on the bed. He pressed the warm cloth back on Harry’s forehead, but now it was dry.

_You should take the bed tonight, you’ll sleep better._

“Malfoy!”

 _Well would you rather I had let you die? Shut up and go to sleep._ Malfoy tucked himself into the blankets on the couch. He was so much taller than Harry that his feet dangled off one end.

“Fine. But I’ll get you back, you know. Can’t be owing you a life debt forever.”

Malfoy made a noise halfway between a sigh and a snort that meant he thought Harry was being stupid.

_Sure, sure, Chosen One. Save my life, go ahead. I’m in imminent danger of being strangled in my sleep by these sheets, and suffocated by my pillow!_

“You’re an asshole.” Harry laughed, though, and Malfoy turned to smirk at him.

_You’re an asshole too. Go to sleep._

“Thank you. Just for… you know. Waking me up, and everything.”

Malfoy didn’t say anything in return. Harry wondered if he had already fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been to you.” Harry sighed and stared at the ceiling, pulling the blankets up to his chin. “I probably deserved to get hexed. You saved my life twice, I should have just accepted that meant I was stuck with you and been grateful instead of being an asshole about it. If everyone else is fine with it, I should have let you go on watch, too. I’m sorry I was being an idiot. It was mostly because I felt like a third wheel.”

 _You_ _are_ _an idiot._

“Hey, I’m trying to apologize to you, you git!”

_You called me a git, so now you have to start over or I won’t forgive you._

Harry turned to look, and Malfoy was grinning at him in the dark.

_If you think I’m going to take your watch for you in the morning, you are mistaken._

“I’m going to sleep now.” Harry threatened, and turned over.

_Goodnight then, Potter._

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

_Apology accepted._

“Gee, thanks a lot.” and for a few lovely minutes, Harry forgot about Voldemort and horcruxes and running for his life, and grinned into his pillow as he fell asleep.


	4. Mint and Eucalyptus

True to his word, Malfoy hadn’t said anything to Ron, Hermione or Luna the next morning about what had happened the night before. Harry was grateful, but even though they didn’t know, it was clear all three of them could see the change. At breakfast, when Harry and Draco sat beside each other without a word and Harry politely passed the salt, Ron looked between the two of them with his brows pushing together. When Harry’s watch was up and Malfoy was the one to come take his place, Hermione’s eyes grew very wide, and she gave Harry a look, but he just shook his head, and she went back to reading.

“I’m so glad you and Draco are getting along,” Luna said that afternoon, totally out of the blue. Malfoy was in the bedroom, reading, and Harry was in the kitchen, trying to find something interesting to cook for dinner.

“Uh,” Harry said, caught off guard, “Yeah, sorry I was so… um, I was rude. Sorry, Luna. I should have taken your word for it.”

Luna smiled. “Yes, you should have.” she sat down at the kitchen bar and folded her hands in front of her on the table. “Do you think now it would be okay for all of us to go into the village together? We walked by a pub on the way up the hill and I thought it would be nice to take a break and eat dinner together.”

“That sounds like a nice idea to me, actually,” Hermione answered, ducking back in the tent from outside. “I’m tired of being on watch, and we still have to go find some clothes.”

“Yes- Draco has some nice things, but I would like my own clothes again,” Luna sighed, and Hermione nodded. 

And it was decided. The five of them were traipsing back down the side of the mountain before Harry could even properly prepare himself. He’d left his scarf in the bedroom, and now the back of his neck was prickling with cold. It was nice, though, Harry thought, to be out of the tent and on a non-Voldemort excursion. He’d spent every second of his free time thinking about horcruxes or being bitter about Malfoy, and now one of those things he could let go, and the other he could forget about for a few hours.

The village was bustling with locals doing afternoon errands. School was clearly out for the day, because Harry and the others were able to blend in perfectly with the gangs of laughing muggle teenagers loitering about town. The whole place was barely bigger than Hogsmeade, and Harry let himself sink into a fantasy that the five of them were still at Hogwarts, and the war wasn’t happening, and this was just a normal Hogsmeade weekend. They even passed a candy shop that smelled oddly similar to Honeydukes, and Luna dragged all of them inside, giggling.

“Weird,” Ron smiled, showing Harry a candy bar in a bright red wrapper. “Can we actually buy some of these?”

Malfoy shoved a wad of muggle money into Ron’s hands and excitedly held up a large bag of pop rocks. He hadn’t been able to speak since they left the tent, because they couldn’t use their magic here, but Harry couldn’t help but feel he knew what Malfoy was saying most of the time, anyway.

“Oh, I’ve had those,” Harry explained, “They’re like fizzing whizbees, not as loud, though.”

Malfoy grinned and took another bag of them and some sour ropes.

“Are you sure that’s good for your throat?” Harry called after him, but Malfoy was already gone.

“Harry, how much money is this?” Ron asked, waving around bills much too large for the candy shop, “I want as many chocolates as I can carry with me.”

The five of them sat outside the shop afterwards, enjoying their sweets as the fall leaves fluttered around them. Harry and Hermione had kept them from spending too much, but as Malfoy had gotten so much of his money exchanged, they had plenty to spend. Ron, Luna, and Draco were playing a game where they would try to guess what a muggle candy would taste like before biting into it, and Harry and Hermione watched, laughing, as the three of them argued about lemon drops, candy corn and orange slices. It reminded Harry of the day he’d met Ron, on the Hogwarts Express. He watched Malfoy try to pull apart the different colored stripes in a sour rope and wondered if he could have been on good terms with Malfoy then. If they had shared a compartment on the train, instead of Harry and Ron, would they be friends? Would they have still ended up here? Harry was still lost in thought and Ron was still sampling different chocolate bars, long after they’d walked away.

They stopped by a drug store next, where Hermione bought quite a bit of muggle first aid and medicine, “just in case,” she’d said. After they’d left, Harry had rushed back in and bought some cough drops, which he gave to Malfoy.

“They might not help any more than tea would,” Harry sighed, “but these you can use whenever, and maybe you can get your voice back a little sooner.”

Malfoy had taken the bag from him with an almost reverent look on his face, and Harry was suddenly glad that Hermione, Ron and Luna were several feet in front of them and couldn’t see the heat rising in his cheeks.

Malfoy unwrapped one of the cough drops carefully and placed it on his tongue, closing his mouth with a thoughtful expression. 

“How is it?” Harry asked. The package had said it was mint and eucalyptus flavor. That’s what Harry had liked best when he was sick, and as a child he had stolen some from the school nurse to keep in a back corner of his cupboard, because the Dursleys had never “had any to spare” for him. It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason Harry wanted Malfoy to like these  _ specific  _ cough drops. These were the ones he deserved to have after he had taken care of Harry the night before.

After a moment of deliberation, Malfoy nodded to Harry as if to say thank you, and the corners of his mouth lifted just a tiny bit before he was rushing ahead to catch up with the others. 

He liked them, then. Good. Harry took a deep breath and followed Malfoy further down the sidewalk, where the others were laughing at a joke he’d missed.

+++

The five of them stepped into a clothing store next, which was warm and brightly lit. Ron and Hermione set off immediately to find clothes in one direction, and Malfoy and Luna headed in the other, so that Harry was left standing on his own in the middle aisle. 

Luna and Malfoy were holding hands.

_ You’re not jealous,  _ Harry insisted to himself, but he was suddenly feeling very tired and a little bit sad.  _ Just go join one of them, it’s not a big deal. You’ve been hanging out with Ron and Hermione for years, it isn’t any different now. _

But it was different now, Harry thought, because he could see Hermione tucking her bushy hair behind her ear and looking up at Ron with something like wonder as he pulled a winter hat down from a tall shelf for her. 

Harry did miss Ginny, but even worse, he felt guilty for not missing Ginny more often. He thought of her warmth, and hand-holding, and stolen kisses in abandoned corridors, but he only thought of those things when he was alone and jealous. He should miss her more, he thought, he should be thinking of her just as much as he did when he was at Hogwarts, but he didn’t. He was always thinking of horcruxes and Voldemort and fighting, and thinking of Ginny just… didn't fit. Ginny belonged to a time when Harry was worried about things like Quidditch matches and house points and his potions final. Ginny belonged in someone else’s life, not his, or at least that’s what it seemed like.

When he was at Hogwarts, he had thought of her constantly, dreamed of her, but ever since the wedding she had cropped up in his head only as someone else to worry about, like his friends from Hogwarts and the other Weasleys. Now Harry only dreamt of dark hallways and weapons and Voldemort, green light flashing across the astronomy tower, blood pooling in the bathrooms. Was he a bad partner, for shoving Ginny to the back of his mind? Surely when soldiers went off to war, they carried memories of their partners with them to keep them sane. Harry didn't do that at all. Did he even deserve to get back together with her, now that he had spent all of his time forgetting about her, when she was probably worried sick about him?

He remembered the fight they’d had right before he left. How Ginny, with tears in her eyes, had shouted that it was stupid for her to be left behind. She hadn’t been left behind when they went to the ministry. Harry had fought Voldemort face to face so many times when he was underage, what kind of excuse was that for leaving her here? They had broken up, he couldn’t use the girlfriend excuse anymore.  _ How could you!?  _ He could still hear her saying it. If he trusted her and loved her, why did he confide in Ron and Hermione and not her? 

He remembered Ron shouting at him when the horcrux had gotten to him, right before he left.  _ You don’t even care what happens to them, do you?  _ He’d said.  _ I’m out here missing sleep and waiting to hear about them every moment of every day, and you don’t give a damn what happens to my family, not even Ginny! You just broke her heart and forgot all about her! _

“Harry? Are you alright?” A voice asked, and Harry snapped out of it to see Luna looking down at him. He was sitting on a bench near the dressing rooms, but he’d been so lost in thought he didn’t remember sitting down.

“I’m fine, sorry Luna,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

“Thinking about what?” she asked, sitting down next to him. “I find that sharing my thoughts is the only way to pull myself out of them, sometimes.”

“Ginny,” Harry said honestly. Luna had always been so easy to talk to. “I don’t think… I don’t think I was good enough for her. She wanted to come with us, and I didn’t let her. We broke up at the end of last term, I… I wasn’t sure you knew, sorry.”

Luna peered at him, and her blue eyes were piercing. “Harry, you should never think you aren’t good enough for anyone. You are the kindest person I know.” she put her hand on his. “Ginny didn’t think that of you, either.”

“How can you be so sure?” Harry asked. “I don’t… I don’t even miss her, most of the time. I mean, I miss being with someone. I miss that more than I miss her. And that seems wrong.”

Luna looked at him kindly and squeezed his hand. “Harry, before they took me off the Hogwarts express, I was sitting with Ginny and Neville. I can promise you that Ginny didn’t think that of you. She loves you. She thought you were very brave, for leaving. She admires you so much, for facing him like this.”

“She also thought I was an arsehole,” Harry added, and Luna smiled. 

“Maybe a little bit. But it was your decision, and she respected it.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just… I feel like being with her was… too good for me. Too good to be true.”

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” she sighed, “You deserve to be happy, Harry.”

Harry didn’t say anything. Ginny deserved to be happy too, and he had ruined that.

“Try on this scarf.” Luna said suddenly, and she handed Harry a wad of thick, soft fabric. He smiled, letting go of his darker thoughts, and wrapped the vibrant green scarf around his neck. 

“How’s that?” He asked, turning his head to model for her.

“Lovely!” Luna exclaimed. “It matches your eyes, Harry. He should get it, shouldn’t he, Draco?” 

Harry looked up- how long had Malfoy been standing behind them? Malfoy was staring at Harry with a very odd look on his face, one Harry couldn’t quite understand. The late afternoon sun was streaming in now, covering Malfoy in pink and orange light. His white-blonde hair shone so brightly it looked a little bit like a halo.

“What? It looks stupid, doesn’t it?” Harry asked him, smiling. The light was almost hurting his eyes. Malfoy shook his head, and then looked away, breaking the moment.

“You should get it!” Luna insisted happily, and Malfoy nodded, trying his best to smile but clearly failing. Harry was confused. What was wrong? But then Hermione was there, Ron trailing behind her.

“Are you all ready to go? Harry, you didn’t even get anything!” she looked up and down at Luna and Malfoy, who were carrying already purchased bags of clothes.

“Sorry, er, I was-” but Harry couldn’t think of an excuse.

“He was lost in thought.” Luna supplied. “Come on, Harry, we have to find you something and then we can go eat!”

“Thank Merlin, I’m starved,” Ron grumbled, and Harry was dragged by the arm into the fitting rooms with Luna and Hermione.

 

+++

 

The sun had already set when Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna and Draco all exited the shop and headed down the street toward the pub. It was a Friday, which Harry had discovered on a shop calendar, and the streets were busy now with rowdy groups of friends and families. The local cinema was playing a movie called  _ Scream  _ that there was a very long line for, and soon many of the moviegoers crowded the street. It became more cramped the further they went, until at last, passing a nightclub, they were shoulder to shoulder with strangers. 

“Which way’s the pub? I’m going to get lost in all these stupid people!” Ron grumbled.

“We should all hold hands, that way we don’t get separated,” Luna shouted over the din. 

“Good idea! Everyone grab on, I can see the way to the door from here,” Hermione called, and Harry felt a hand latch onto his. Hermione had his hand in one of hers, and Ron’s in the other, and was leading the way. 

Harry reached behind him and grabbed the closest hand. It wriggled away from him and grabbed his wrist instead. 

He looked back and realized it was Malfoy. That was fine. Harry definitely wasn’t a little bit offended. Ron wouldn’t have done that, though. Luna wouldn’t have either. Everyone else here was perfectly fine with holding his hand.

Probably only because it was the worst possible time for Harry to fall down, that’s when it happened. Out of nowhere, his forehead erupted in pain worse than he’d felt on the entire trip. Harry wanted to scream, but to his horror, he could  _ hear  _ himself laughing. Whatever Voldemort was doing, he was happy about it. Triumphant. The pain spiked again, harder this time, and Harry’s vision swam and then went dark. He knew he was going to pass out, and as he fell, he felt a rush of embarrassment that every single stranger in the square was about to witness him faceplant into the street.

 

+++

 

“Oh, the poor dear!” said a woman’s voice near the top of his head. Harry didn’t know who it was. Wherever he was, he was uncomfortably warm. His head felt like it had split open. The last time he felt like this had been… fifth year? After Voldemort had realized they were connected, he’d kept Harry out pretty well. Harry tried to remember what he’d felt, and what he’d seen while he was out. Flashes of darkness and light, a high cold laugh, and someone crying… faces he didn’t remember, but if he could just focus...

“He fell, in the street. He gets fainting spells. We just need somewhere to sit down, please, and-“ Hermione was interrupted by the earlier woman’s voice.

“No trouble dearie, just come with me. You all can take the corner booth, it should be big enough! Does your friend need any water or anything, smelling salts, maybe?”

“It’s okay, he’ll wake up in a few minutes, I can tell,” Luna said somewhere to his right. Harry realized suddenly that someone was carrying him, but it was just then that they laid him down. Harry couldn’t help but think it had been Malfoy, but he wasn’t sure why he wanted it to be. He still felt like he couldn’t open his eyes, and his whole body ached. Who was it that Voldemort had captured? It was someone important.

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice came from his right. “Harry are you all right?” he felt her hand push his hair away from his forehead. “Ron, look at this. His scar looks swollen.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered, and then, even quieter, “Muffliato.” 

“You can’t do magic here!” Hermione hissed, but Ron sounded unfazed.

“The ministry isn’t exactly in working order right now, Hermione. And I didn’t want the muggles to hear everything we’re saying. That table over there looks nosy.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Hermione sighed, and then, “Oh, Luna’s coming back. She must have ordered drinks at the bar.”

Harry finally found the strength to open his eyes to discover that it was  _ far  _ too bright at the muggle pub and instantly shut them again, groaning. He felt terribly weak.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped. He begrudgingly opened his eyes, squinting at her. One lens in his glasses was shattered. Hermione and Ron sat on his right, looking worried, and Malfoy sat on his left, scooting closer to him so that Luna could squeeze in the booth with their tray of drinks.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Luna said kindly, passing him a glass. “I got water for you, Harry. You don’t want to be dehydrated after all that!”

Harry said “Thanks,” and his voice was raspy. He gulped down the whole glass of water as fast as he could. He was parched.

“Harry, what happened?” Hermione asked gently, putting her hand on his arm.

Harry sighed. “Shouldn’t we wait to get back to the tent to talk?”

“I didn’t cast muffliato in the middle of a muggle pub for no reason, mate.” Ron said, but he was looking at Harry with concern. “We know you saw something bad.”

Malfoy was silently arguing with Luna over something. Harry watched as he snatched something out of her hand- a ballpoint pen. He scratched out words on a napkin.  _ You were laughing.  _

“That’s happened before,” Hermione explained, grimacing. “Sometimes it’s been like… You-Know-Who takes over Harry. Just for a second. He’s always been able to push him out, but it takes a toll.”

Harry felt like Hermione had an insight to him that she had never spoken aloud. There were those days, when they were alone in the tent, when she had heard everything he’d said in his sleep. She had seen his reaction to the horcrux, when he’d been  _ knocked out  _ by the pain it caused him. She’d been the one who had to use a severing charm to get it off his chest.

Luna and Malfoy were looking at him, dumbstruck.

“Harry,” Luna sighed, clutching her chest, “I never knew,”

Harry didn’t mind Luna feeling sorry for him, but he didn’t want Malfoy to feel that way. Harry shrugged it off. 

“Well, you know, just part of being  _ the chosen one,  _ or whatever.” he was starting to remember more of the vision, now that he was awake. “It was- he had captured someone. Oh! Ollivander! He’s got Ollivander!”

Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth, and Luna went pale.

“What’s he need Ollivander for? What’s he doing to him?” Ron asked, clearly shaken.

“He wants a new wand, I think. Because of the connection between ours.” Harry thought out loud. “He wasn’t torturing him, but… I think he planned to. It seemed like Ollivander was just telling him what he wanted to hear.”

Malfoy scribbled quickly and then held up his note.  _ That’s right. He’s been taking wands from Death Eaters. He took my father’s. None of them were good enough. _

“He also probably wants to get Bellatrix Lestrange a new wand,” Luna said thoughtfully, “We took hers.”

“I had forgotten we had it,” Hermione shuddered. 

“There was something else.” Harry said, gritting his teeth. “But I can’t… The Ministry…”

“Is he _ at _ the Ministry!?” Ron gawked at him.

“No,” Harry sighed. Malfoy was scribbling fast now. This note he passed to Harry without holding it up for the others to see.

_ You have to tell them about last night. He sent my parents to the Ministry for a reason. _

“What’s wrong, Draco?” Luna asked, eyeing the note crushed in Harry’s hand.

“Nothing,” Harry answered for him, and Malfoy glared daggers at him. “Sorry,”

Malfoy, switching tactics, turned to Luna.  _ Potter has something to tell us. _

“Come on, Malfoy, don’t-”

_ If you don’t tell them I will. I know I promised, but this is important. _

Ron and Hermione were looking back and forth from Harry to Malfoy as if they were watching a high-stakes tennis match.

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “Last night, I dreamt about him. I saw what he was doing. I was going to tell you all eventually-” Harry ignored Hermione’s reproachful look, “-but I just didn’t want everyone to get all worked up!”

“What was he doing, then? And why’d you tell Malfoy but not the rest of us?” Ron didn’t look angry, just confused.

“He woke me up,” Harry sighed, “I was having a nightmare.”

“You can be honest with us, Harry,” Hermione looked hurt. “I thought you knew that.”

“I do know that!” Harry interjected, “But you would have just told me I needed to work on shutting my mind!”

“You do!” Hermione shouted.

“If I shut my mind, we wouldn’t know anything!” Harry replied.

Ron shoved an arm between the two of them. “Hey! Just tell us what you saw! We can argue about that later.” Ron put a hand on her shoulder, and Hermione glowered.

“Okay, well, he was punishing them. The Malfoys. And Bellatrix.” Harry couldn’t look Malfoy in the face for this. “He killed Peter Pettigrew, and tortured the others. He sent the Malfoys to work in the department of mysteries. He kicked them out of their home, basically.”

“Well, honestly, good riddance to that one,” Ron started, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“If he sent the Malfoys to the Ministry, it had to be for something important…” she thought out loud. “It’s not likely they’re infiltrating anything, because the Ministry is already under You-Know-Who’s control. He has everything he needs. What could be left at the Ministry?”

“Maybe he just wants them out of the way,” Ron suggested, but Harry shook his head.

“No, if he thought they weren't useful, he would have killed them. He even said so.”

“Well, in fifth year, he wanted the prophecy,” Luna said, finally chiming in. “Why didn’t he get whatever it was he wanted then, when he had already broken in to the department of mysteries?”

“Because it’s not something he wants!” Hermione gasped. “It’s something he already has! He sent them to the department of mysteries to  _ guard something!” _

Malfoy poked Harry’s arm and pointed at a new note.  _ Bellatrix was keeping something for him in her vault at Gringotts,  _ it said,  _ what if he lost trust in her and made her move it to the Ministry? _

“It’s a horcrux!” Harry shouted gleefully, “He has a horcrux hidden in the department of mysteries!”

“That’s perfect!” Hermione grinned. “The department of mysteries is the hardest to break into, we know that-  _ and _ he has them guarding it! Taking away responsibility from his most devoted follower would have been the worst punishment he could think of for Bellatrix. You’re sure she was keeping something for him, Malfoy?”

_ Positive. Something he wanted to keep safe. _

“That has to be it!” Ron was grinning too. “We’ve broken into the ministry before! We can do it again!”

“As much as I loved breaking into the Ministry with all of you the first time,” Luna interrupted, “When are you going to explain what a horcrux is? I haven’t found anything in our books.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione all fell silent, looking to each other. Dumbledore had wanted them to keep this a secret, between the three of them. But so far, how had that helped? Wouldn’t bringing just one more person- maybe two -into the game help them find the horcruxes and destroy them faster? All this time they’d been feeding on basically nothing, and the only horcrux they’d actually destroyed was the one Dumbledore had basically found for them. They didn’t even know what the other horcruxes were.

“Let’s tell them.” Harry said. When he spoke it aloud, it seemed final. This was it. The trio was going to gain two more. He could tell without even asking that Ron and Hermione agreed. It was time to let someone else in on their secret. It was time to _ finally  _ accept the help they needed.

“So!” a voice said, and all five of them jumped in their seats, “have all of you decided what to order? You’re all looking very serious!” their waitress had to be about seventy years old, and looked as if she wanted to become their new adopted grandmother.

“Uh,” Ron smiled, “We might need a minute, actually.”

 

+++

 

The food at the pub was better than anything Harry could cook, even with all of their fresh ingredients. While they ate, they told Luna and Malfoy everything. Both of them were absolutely horrified- as they should be- but Harry found that he was very glad to have  _ both  _ of them on his team. Together, the five of them went over everything they already knew, and everything they could guess, about the horcruxes. The diary, the ring, and the locket were dead. Now they just had to break into the Ministry.

The waitress- who was also the owner of the pub, and the same woman whose voice Harry had heard before he was fully conscious, never heard anything she wasn’t supposed to hear. Muffliato, however, did not stop her from continuing to come back to their booth over and over to check on Harry. She was clearly very worried about this strange teenage boy fainting in the street, but she was also very smitten with Draco. To Harry’s utter bewilderment (and Ron’s delight) she actually pinched Draco’s cheek once. He had remained silent, looking extremely uncomfortable, while she had gone on and on about how sweet it was that he carried his friend all the way down the street alone. Harry couldn’t help but think this was a bit out of character, since Malfoy hadn’t even wanted Harry to touch his hand earlier, but he didn’t say anything. 

Luna and Ron got a  _ ton  _ of comedic mileage from their impressions of the pub owner and Malfoy on the way back to the tent. Harry was glad the initial horror of their horcrux conversation was already dissipating.

“Oooh, Draco, what an interesting name!” Ron cooed in a high voice, flipping some imaginary long hair away from his face. 

Luna scrunched up her nose and widened her already very wide eyes, doing a fantastic impression of Malfoy’s face in the pub.

Hermione was laughing so hard she was nearly choking. Harry grinned, and then looked over his shoulder and realized Malfoy was walking alone, several paces behind all of them.

“Hey,” Harry said, sidling back next to Malfoy, “Nobody is making fun of you. Sorry if we hurt your feelings.” 

Apparently once Harry had decided to be friends with Malfoy, it was either go big or go home. That, and Harry was still  _ very  _ thankful for all the trouble Malfoy had gone through to help him feel better the night before.

_ It’s not that.  _

They were far enough away from town now that Malfoy could spell out words with his wand again.

“Then what’s wrong?” Harry asked. “Usually you’d be cracking up with Luna about now.” He gestured toward the group in front of them, where all three of their friends were laughing together. 

_ The diary.  _ Draco spelled at last, looking at the ground.  _ There was a horcrux in my home. I had seen it. I had written in it, once. Father caught me and took it away. I never knew what it was. _

“You wrote in it!?” Harry gasped, and Malfoy shook his head at him, encouraging him not to worry.

_ The horcrux didn’t even have time to finish writing its reply before I got caught. I was never supposed to mess with anything in that particular curio cabinet, but you know. I was a child. Being told I couldn’t have something just made me want it more. _

Harry didn’t want to admit out loud that he knew the Malfoy household was full of dark artifacts. Arthur Weasley had been sent on a raid there once, even. 

_ I was lucky I was never possessed, like Weasley’s sister. _

“You wouldn’t have been,” Harry said, but Malfoy looked up at him, his mouth a pale line.

_ Why not? She was a pureblood. She wasn’t safe. Why would I be? I probably would have led him to you even faster. _

“Maybe,” Harry said, “But that didn’t happen. There’s no use in worrying about it now.”

_ What kind of father would keep that kind of thing in his home, near his child? _

Draco wasn’t looking at Harry anymore.

“Malfoy, I don’t think he knew what it was. You-Know-Who was very private about that kind of thing, you know. He doesn’t trust even his closest followers.”

_ How could you know that? _

“Well I am in his head sometimes, you know,” Harry grinned, but this didn’t seem to make any impact.

“Speaking of being in You-Know-Who’s head,” Hermione interrupted, and Harry rolled his eyes. Typical that the  _ one  _ time he mentions it, she hears it from all the way in front of them and barges in. Now he was going to get a lecture.

“Draco and I were talking about it, and I think it’s a good idea for the two of you to start practicing occlumency together. He’s very good at it, Harry.”

“You’re- he- what!?” Harry looked back and forth from one to the other. Malfoy looked embarrassed, Hermione looked earnest. “So that’s what you all do when I’m on watch, then? Talk about how bad at occlumency I am?”

“No, Harry,” Hermione sighed, “But you could have been seriously hurt today! I’m surprised you haven’t gotten a concussion already! And the nightmares last night, too…” she trailed off, looking guilty under Harry’s glare. “I know you don’t want to hear me tell you to close your mind again!” she rushed, “But listen! Draco’s very good, and I’m sure anyone would be a better teacher for you than Snape was, he didn’t even want to teach you! And… And I admit, the visions have been useful. Maybe if you learn legilimency, you can close your mind off to You-Know-Who  _ and  _ still see what he’s up to!” she finished in a rush, out of breath.

“I… well honestly, that’s brilliant, Hermione,” Harry said honestly, wishing she had taken this view of it months ago. He turned to Malfoy. “And you really want to teach me?”

_ I’m not sure I’d be that great of an instructor, but I am willing to try. _

Harry was relieved to see that Malfoy was looking at him again, and didn’t seem as upset as he had been. “Did Snape teach you, too?” Harry asked.

_ No, I learned from Bella. _

He grimaced, and Harry had the feeling that learning occlumency from Bellatrix Lestrange was probably a lot worse than learning from Snape. 

_ We can practice when neither of us are on watch, if you like,  _ Malfoy spelled with his wand.  _ Granger is right, I am very good at it. _

He was smirking now.

“All right, show off,” Harry grinned, elbowing Malfoy in the ribs. “Fine. As long as you aren’t like, throwing me across the room, or peeking at embarrassing memories and then screaming at me when I accidentally see yours.”

Malfoy’s face lit up.  _ What did you see?  _ He was practically smiling at Harry now.  _ Merlin, I would pay my weight in galleons to see Snape’s embarrassing memories.  _

Harry was still laughing when they made their way into the tent. 

The next morning, Malfoy had promised, they would start their training. Ron and Hermione were already pulling out books on the Ministry, starting their plan for the break in. For the first time in months, Harry was excited. Finally, things were starting to fall into place. The fight against Voldemort hadn’t turned stale, after all. He had something to do, a plan to form, and that was where Harry felt he was at his best.  _ They were going to find another horcrux. _


	5. Occlumency Again

   Harry _hated_ occlumency. He hated it more than he’d hated anything in a long time. Harry was starting to suspect that it was not Snape’s fault, after all, that he’d never learned to shut his mind, because trying to learn occlumency from Malfoy was not any easier. In fact, it was probably harder.

   They had been training together for two weeks now. Harry had let Hermione take full charge of the plan for the Ministry, which meant that she was overthinking it, and Harry had plenty of time to practice occlumency. What Harry had expected was that Malfoy, despite being himself, would be a much better teacher than Snape, and that occlumency would come easy to him by the end of his first few lessons.

    That is not what happened.

    Harry wasn’t used to things being increasingly difficult for him. He had always been, well, good at most things, now that he was admitting it to himself. Quidditch and magic had always come so easy to him. Sure, he’d had trouble with more difficult spells, and potions had never been his strong suit, but flying had come to him like second nature, and most new magic worked out for him in the first few tries. The last time he’d had this much trouble with something was when he was thirteen, learning to cast a patronus. Even then, though, he couldn’t remember being this frustrated, this on-edge. Then again, Lupin had been an amazing, insightful teacher. Malfoy was not a good teacher _at all._

Harry didn’t blame Malfoy for his own lack of understanding, it was just that he was Malfoy. Like Harry, most things had come easily to him. He was smart, and talented, and unfortunately for Harry, very good at occlumency. He had expected, just as Harry had, that being forced to work together wouldn’t last very long, because Harry would just somehow understand after a few lessons and that would be that. Instead, they’d been holed up together for two weeks and made so little progress that it seemed like Harry was actually worse at clearing his mind than he had been before.

    Twice now, their sessions had ended in screaming matches, or at least, Harry screaming and Malfoy writing very large, angry words in the air.

    They’d started with legilimency. Hermione and Malfoy both agreed that maybe, since Harry had so much trouble with clearing his mind, if he learned occlumency in reverse it would help. It didn’t, because Harry was just as bad at legilimency as he was occlumency. For several hours, they would sit across from each other in the bedroom, and Harry would cast legilimens and see absolutely nothing. He couldn’t reach into Malfoy’s mind no matter how hard he tried. They’d tried standing closer together. They’d tried having Malfoy take down his mental walls. They’d even went walking around the village once, letting Harry try and read the minds of muggles. Nothing worked. Harry was starting to be convinced that the one time he’d read Snape’s mind had been a fluke, and when he voiced this, Malfoy agreed, which made everything much worse.

    Soon after that, they’d given up and switched to occlumency, and fought twice as much. Malfoy didn’t try very hard to read Harry’s mind, and even though Harry was glad that Malfoy respected his privacy, this made it even more insulting when he couldn’t block him out. The only memories Malfoy had seen were from the past month or so, so he was always seeing replays of things that had _just happened._ This was probably what made them so annoyed with each other. One particularly bad day, Malfoy had revisited himself calling Harry an idiot forty-two times, probably just to annoy him. This had ended in Harry calling Malfoy a long string of words that were much worse than _idiot,_ and storming out, slamming the door behind him.

    The thing about working one-on-one with Malfoy was that Harry just couldn’t do it. He could not, and did not want to, work with Malfoy. They were polar opposites and yet they were exactly the same. Two weeks ago, Harry had expected that maybe one day he could just forgive Malfoy for everything that had happened at Hogwarts, but today he felt that he needed to bring up that time Malfoy paralyzed him and then broke his nose and left him on the Hogwarts Express. Why these sort of things were Harry’s first defense, he didn’t know, but every time he failed for hours on end, Malfoy would get pissy. When Malfoy became frustrated, he’d start insulting Harry’s intelligence. When Harry got his feelings hurt, he’d insult Malfoy’s character. That was why they shouldn’t work together, Harry thought. They each knew exactly the right thing to say to make the other completely explode.

    On Halloween night Ron, Hermione, and Luna had gone out to the pub while Harry and Malfoy practiced. That was their first bad fight. When the others returned, Harry and Malfoy were on opposite sides of the tent and each of them vowed not to speak to each other for at least two days. Luna had barely even convinced them to keep working.

    It was November now, and they had left the ski slopes beside the village, and were camping deep in the woods somewhere in Scotland. Harry knew Hogwarts was close, he could practically _feel it,_ and he missed it so badly that this made him even more irritable. He was tired of trying to get along with Malfoy, and even more tired of occlumency.

    _Congratulations, Potter, you’re the world’s leading expert on emotional baggage._ Malfoy had said, spelling the words out very harshly in the air. _Maybe if you could stop thinking about all of your personal traumas for five seconds, you’d figure out how to clear your mind._

“Oh, you’d know all about not thinking about yourself, wouldn’t you, you self-centered prat!” Harry shouted, crossing his arms. “Go ahead, Malfoy, tell me again how great you are at this, I can’t wait to hear it!”

    _Even if I did tell you how great I was at it, you wouldn’t understand, because you’re so thick headed you can’t even listen to simple instructions!_

“I am _so_ fucking tired of you!” Harry shouted, wrenching the door open so he could effectively storm out, again.

    _What a coincidence!_ Malfoy retorted in that gold glowing text that Harry now found very annoying. _I’m sick of you too! So why don’t you do us both a favor and get the fuck out of my sight?_

“Gladly!” Harry shouted, slamming the bedroom door behind him as he stomped out. “I’d rather not see you again anyway, you greasy ponce!”

    Hermione and Luna watched, both of them wide-eyed and frowning, as Harry stormed across the sitting room toward the front of the tent.

    _GREASY!?_ The golden words shouted, but Harry was out of the tent before he could read whatever stupid thing Malfoy was going to say next.

    Ron was on watch, and Harry slammed down into the extra chair next to him without a word.

    Harry didn’t know how to feel about Malfoy anymore. His head was pounding.

   First, at Hogwarts, Malfoy had been his enemy. He had hated him, been obsessed with defeating him in every way he could. He had hated Malfoy more than he knew how to express.

   Then, in sixth year, something had changed. Harry had gone too far. Both of them had gone too far; Malfoy became a Death Eater, and had broken Harry’s nose, and poisoned Ron and Katy Bell and tried to kill Dumbledore. But what Harry had done to him, he thought, was much worse. He’d almost killed him. Malfoy had almost killed people too, but he hadn’t had a choice. Voldemort had threatened him, kill or be killed, watch your family die. Harry did have a choice. Harry had chosen to use a curse he didn’t know, and Malfoy had almost been killed. It was luck that he was alive, and Harry knew that, and still felt guilty about it, constantly.

   In sixth year, when Harry should have hated Malfoy most, he stopped hating him. He pitied him, he worried about him. He noticed when Malfoy stopped eating. When he quit quidditch, when he stopped hanging out with his friends, when he skipped class. Hermione and Ron hadn’t seemed to care, much. They had never hated Malfoy as much as Harry had, and they didn’t pity Malfoy as much as Harry had, either. No one felt as strongly about Malfoy as Harry did, he thought.

   And then it had changed again. Dumbledore had made sure of that. He had taken Malfoy’s side, offered him protection, and then somehow in Harry’s mind, Malfoy had turned from someone to be pitied into someone to be rescued.

  And then Malfoy had rescued him. Twice. He’d vouched for Harry in front of the Death Eaters, he’d helped Harry escape the manor. He’d taken that knife to the throat.

  Very briefly, Malfoy became someone neutral. Someone Harry owed a debt to. Someone he did not trust, but who he did not hate, either. Harry had thought, at the time, that they could become friends. They had shared a few days of just easy, simple companionship.

  Until they started these stupid, awful occlumency lessons, and Harry remembered why he had hated him in the first place. Malfoy was arrogant, and mean, and his words were always rude and cutting. Harry hated him. He totally, and completely, hated him.

  “Harry?” Ron asked, and Harry was shaken from his thoughts.

  “Uh… What?”

  “I’ve been talking to you for five minutes now.” Ron answered, looking worried.

  “Sorry,” Harry sighed, leaning his head back onto the rocking chair, “I was just thinking.”

  “About Malfoy?” Ron asked.

  Harry was shocked.

  “You just looked really angry,” Ron laughed, “I figured it was him.”

  “How do you _stand him!?_ ” Harry sighed. “I mean, I know you and Luna and Hermione are all okay with him, but-“

  “Me? And Malfoy?” Ron was still laughing. “Mate. Malfoy apologized to Hermione, not me. I figured he’d ditch us in like a week. I mean I know he saved our lives but… I didn’t expect him to stick around.”

  “Wait, you aren’t- I thought you-“

  “You _seriously_ thought me and Malfoy were friends? We’ve had like four real conversations!” Ron was grinning. “Oh Merlin, look at your face. You were mad, weren’t you?”

  “I wasn’t mad at you,” Harry said.

  “You liar,” Ron laughed. “You were jealous. You thought we all liked him.”

  “Luna likes him,” Harry grumbled, and Ron laughed again.

  “That’s Luna though, she likes everyone. And he apologized to Hermione, she really appreciated it. He saved your life, she was so upset, Harry! Of course they like him. To be honest, I was just being nice ‘cause Hermione told me to. We owe him, for saving you.”

  “You don’t owe him! I do!”

Ron slumped back in his chair, still grinning. “Seriously Harry, you’re a mess. And just because I play chess with someone doesn’t mean we’re friends. I’ve played chess with Justin Finch-Fletchey, and _god_ do I ever hate him.” he shook his head, as if playing chess once with Justin had been one of the greatest mistakes of his life.

“You could’ve just asked me to play you,” Harry grumbled again, and Ron laughed.

“No offense Harry, but winning over and over gets boring.”

“You don’t always win!” Harry protested, “I win sometimes!”

“The last time you beat me at chess was in second year.”

“So! I could win again!”

“Against someone who isn’t me, sure. You should play Hermione, she’s awful at it.”

“This is not the point!” Harry was talking with his hands now. “I wanted you to explain to me how you can get along with Malfoy, because I can’t do it.”

“Well mostly, we don’t spend several hours a day locked in the same room staring at each other. That helps.”

“Thanks so much,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Mate, I told you.” Ron dropped his voice to a whisper. “Hermione forgave him. Luna forgave him. I’m not going to forgive him until he apologizes to me, I can’t. He’s a bloody git. He’s done _so much_ I just can’t… But I can be civil to him. He saved my best friend’s life. And I… I left you. He’s already done better than I have, even if he did come from a family of shit.”

“That’s not true,” Harry sighed. How could Ron still feel guilty about leaving? He thought they’d gone over this. Harry had forgiven him the moment he saw him again.

As if he’d known what Harry was thinking, Ron frowned. “Hermione deserved better. I don’t think she’s over it yet, you know? I think she still expects me to leave again.”

Harry’s issues with Malfoy suddenly seemed a lot less important.

“You just have to show her that you won’t.” Harry said. “She’ll be okay.”

“I’ve apologized a hundred times, Harry. It was so stupid for me to leave. She was still mad at me when we got caught by snatchers, when all of this started. I don’t know what else I can do.” Ron looked absolutely heartbroken.

“Tell her again about that ball of light touching your heart,” Harry smiled, “she’ll forgive you.” Harry didn’t say this, but Ron and Hermione had been arguing over everything they possibly could since they were eleven. The bond between them was stronger than this. He knew it. As often as Harry felt like a third wheel, it would devastate him if the two of them never worked things out. Harry really had a feeling that Ron just wasn’t seeing that Hermione had _already_ forgiven him, even though she hadn’t said anything. If Harry knew Hermione, and he really did, she would definitely get her money’s worth in groveling before she let him know she’d forgiven him.

“Besides,” Harry continued, “If you hadn’t been wearing that horcrux, you wouldn’t have gone. She knows that. We should have… we should have realized it was worse for you. None of us should have worn it.”

“Yeah, but that’s a whole other thing,” Ron sighed, looking up at the stars. “Why was the horcrux worse on me, do you think? I was… weak.”

“I think it’s because you have such a big heart, Ron,” someone said, and Harry and Ron looked up to see that Luna had come out from the tent with a tray of hot tea and biscuits, and was smiling widely at both of them.

“Thanks, Luna,” Ron mumbled, and his ears were turning bright red.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled back at her and took a biscuit and a cup of tea.

Luna sat on the ground between them, crossing her legs. “I’m taking watch, your time’s up,” she said dreamily, sipping on her own cup of tea. Harry noticed that though theirs were perfectly normal, Luna’s had a weird, earthy scent. “Hermione would like to see both of you, by the way,” she added. “I think it’s something to do with the ministry.”

Harry and Ron stood, and Ron took a few extra biscuits.

“Thanks again, Luna!” Harry said as they went inside, and Luna beamed up at him. It was very nice, Harry thought, that no matter what horrible mood Malfoy put him in, he could always count on his friends to put him in a better one.

 

“It’s finished,” Hermione said to them as they walked in, biting her nails. The kitchen bar counter was covered in papers and open books. Hermione explained her entire plan to Harry down the to most minute details- Ron knew most of it already, as he’d been helping her while Harry practiced with Malfoy. There were maps of the ministry, plans and escape routes drawn on all of them. There were timetables of known shifts, organized by department. There were notes on every entrance to the ministry, public and private, with the pros and cons listed for each. There were maps of muggle London, with potential spots for the tent marked out in red ink. Harry looked up at Hermione now, impressed.

“This is _brilliant,”_ he grinned, and she looked up at him with a grim smile.

“We’re ready if you are,” she said, “But there’s one thing left to figure out.”

“What?” Harry asked, confused. It looked like she’d already done more than enough.

“How do we tell Malfoy we’re doing this without him?”

 

+  +  +

 

    _You’re joking. You must be fucking kidding me._ The golden text read. All five of them were sitting in the living room- Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the couch, Luna was in the armchair, and Malfoy was pacing the floor, looking furious.

“Draco, please,” Hermione begged, wringing her hands. “Your _parents_ are guarding it! If it was any of us, we’d be doing the same thing.”

 _No, you wouldn’t._ Malfoy glared at her. _You’re the team. I’m the throwaway._

“That’s not true!” Hermione sighed, standing up to reach for him, but he pulled away.

 _This isn’t because of my parents, this is because you don’t trust me._ He wrote, staring into the fire with his arms crossed.

“No offense, mate, but basically, yeah.” Ron shrugged, and Hermione grabbed his arm furiously.

“Ron, no!”

Harry didn’t speak, but Ron shared a look with him that said he knew Harry agreed.

“If he’s not going, I’m not either.” Luna stated plainly. She hadn’t said anything until now, eerily silent.

“But-“ Hermione started, stricken.

“No!” Luna interrupted, “I’ve been telling you from the beginning that’s how it is!”

“Luna, we need you,” Harry finally spoke up.

“If you needed more people, you’d take Draco with you, too!” She stood up, her fists shaking.

 _They don’t need more people,_ Malfoy wrote, still not looking at anyone, _they just don’t want me._

“C’mon, Malfoy!” Ron sighed, “If it were my parents I wouldn’t even want to go!”

“Malfoy- Draco, we’ve been working together in a vacuum, don’t you understand? We’ve all been packed together in this tent, but we haven’t faced any real danger. We can’t ask you to face them, look into their eyes, and choose between them and us,” Hermione added.

 _I’ve already chosen, haven’t I?_ Malfoy flung himself back around to face them. _I could have left at any time! I could have been gone by now, I could have been with the Death Eaters right now, telling them exactly where to find you!_

“You think we don’t know that?” Harry said, his voice rising. “That’s why you’re not coming!”

At this, Malfoy’s face grew redder than Harry had ever seen it, and he stormed from the room. The bedroom door slammed. Harry and Ron looked at each other.

“That could have gone better,” Ron said quietly.

“Maybe if you two had kept your mouths shut!” Hermione fumed.

Luna was silent. She stood up quietly, without a word, and walked to the bedroom. The door opened and closed quickly behind her, and all of them could hear the lock turn.

“I guess I’m sleeping out here tonight,” Harry sighed.

Hermione stood. “Why did you have to say all that?” she asked quietly, but Harry didn’t have an answer.

She and Ron made their way to the other bedroom, and Harry stayed on the couch. There was no blanket, so eventually he fell asleep, buried under various throw pillows, curled up close to the fire.

 

For the next few days, as they all prepared for their trip to the ministry, Malfoy said nothing to any of them. He helped out- packing, moving the tent, going on watch- but he never spelled out a single word to any of them. Harry suspected that maybe he spoke to Luna, but if he did, it wasn’t where any of the others could see. Hermione tried many times to get him to talk to her, but he would only look at her, sigh, and walk away.

At first Harry hadn’t felt guilty at all. They had just been telling the truth. But Luna had only spent the one night in Malfoy’s room, and the next night, when Harry went in to go to bed, he found Malfoy already asleep on the couch, leaving the bed for Harry. It wasn’t Harry’s turn to take the bed, but when he said this, Malfoy didn’t stir. So Harry took the bed for three nights in a row, and felt increasingly awful about it every night.

Once Malfoy had hit his third consecutive day of not speaking, Harry thought maybe his point was to make them feel guilty, and whether it was working on Hermione and Ron or not, it was _definitely_ working on Harry.

Malfoy would visibly stiffen whenever Harry got close to him. When they passed each other in the tent, he would keep his eyes as far away from Harry’s as he could. Once he had watch right after Harry, and when Harry’s time was up, Malfoy simply stood there with the door open, looking at the ground until Harry got up and went inside. Sometimes after they went to bed, Harry would lay there, looking at the ceiling, and try to talk to Malfoy. No matter what he said, there was never a response.

Harry had joked about Malfoy’s pictures, on the wall. He’d asked how his watch was, he’d told him again and again he could take the bed. Malfoy never even moved.

Harry realized on the day that they moved the tent to the inside of an abandoned factory in London that he actually _missed_ Malfoy. It was stupid, but after spending hours every day listening to him and practicing with him, there was what felt like a big gaping hole in Harry’s day. The thought of missing someone while they were _in the same room_ and had barely ever done anything but insult you haunted him. What do you miss, the arguing? Harry had asked himself on watch. The insults? What? Taking out your frustration on him? Surely you don’t miss practicing occlumency. No, he didn’t miss that. Hours alone with Malfoy in the bedroom, studying hard and failing over and over. The exasperated look on Malfoy’s face when he suggested something stupid. The occasional walks outside the border of the tent, just the two of them, when Harry needed a break and would try to practice Legilimency on muggles.

This was a _punishment,_ it had to be. Malfoy knew, somehow, that if he went long enough, Harry would want him to talk, and that’s why he wasn’t talking. And once Harry was convinced something was a challenge, he wasn’t about to back down.

“Please just take the bed, Malfoy,” Harry sighed when he came in the bedroom. Malfoy was already curled up on the couch, facing away from him. “Come _on,_ this is the fourth night in a row! I feel like an arse, just take the bed, okay?”

For the first time since this had all started, Malfoy actually turned to look at Harry, his eyes narrowed. He glared at Harry, and Harry imagined he was saying something like _good, you deserve to feel like an arse, you are one._ He didn’t say anything, though, he just turned back over and pulled the blankets over his head.

“Ugh,” Harry groaned, stomping to the bed and flopping down on it. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Malfoy did not move.

“You’re fucking impossible to get along with, and impossible to understand, and impossible to share a room with.”

Harry took a deep breath. This was it. He was going to keep talking until Malfoy did, or he was going to go insane. Maybe he was already insane.

“If you don’t take the bed I’m going to chuck this pillow at you,” Harry warned, lifting up one of the smaller ones as threateningly as one could hold up a pillow. “I’m serious, get up!”

Malfoy didn’t move.

Harry threw the pillow, and it hit the back of Malfoy’s covered head with a satisfying _thwack_ sound. “Get up!” Harry said again.

Malfoy’s shoulders pulled up around his ears, but other than that, he had no reaction.

Harry groaned and grabbed a heavier pillow.

“You can’t just, you can’t-” Harry threw the pillow, but this time he missed, and had to pick it up from the floor. “You can’t just force me to hang out with you all the time and make me actually kind of maybe enjoy your company and then refuse to talk to me,” it all came out in a rush, and when Malfoy turned around, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, Harry hit him square in the face with another pillow.

Malfoy scrambled for something from beneath the blankets and pulled out his wand. Before Harry could react, he was hit- petrificus totalus. He fell backwards onto the bed, his whole body paralyzed, and watched as Malfoy stood up. He had a very smug look on his face. Harry, boiling with rage and embarrassment, cringed internally as Malfoy heaved his unmoving body up onto the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

_It’ll wear off before you wake up._

It was the first thing Harry had gotten Malfoy to say in four days. He was furious.

_Shut up and go to sleep, Potter. You’re breaking into the ministry without my help in a few hours, remember?_

Harry did remember. That’s why he had gone to bed early. They were going to break in at 2am. He had to get a few decent hours sleep first. So this was Malfoy’s revenge? Forcing him to be tucked in?

Malfoy was pulling the covers as close as he could and then stuffing them under Harry’s sides, as if he was trying to prevent an escape. To Harry’s absolute horror, he pulled out the pillow and fluffed it a few times before stuffing it under Harry’s head.

Harry glared at him as hard as he could, hoping that all of the stupid things he wanted to say were clear even though he couldn’t move his face.

Malfoy patted his head.

Harry thought he was going to explode.

 _Goodnight,_ Malfoy said, grinning so wide that Harry could see almost all of his white teeth in the dark. _Enjoy your horcrux hunt. Tell my mother I said hello._

He flopped down on the couch, stretching lazily as if to show off that he could move and Harry couldn’t, and turned to face away from Harry. He could see his shoulders moving, and he knew Malfoy was laughing.

Harry couldn’t help but feel that despite finally getting Malfoy to talk, he had lost their four-day standoff all the same.

   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I've been extremely busy and then extremely sick, so that's why this chapter took a little too long. The next chapter will be a long one, but hopefully won't be as long of a wait!


	6. The Ministry of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some potentially scary imagery and some injuries in this chapter.

When the clock struck two, Harry was already awake. He had dressed and showered, and Malfoy hadn’t stirred at all while he’d gotten ready. He had his wand and his invisibility cloak stowed safely in the pockets of his robes, and he headed into the kitchen to grab a bite before their big excursion. He found that he wasn’t nervous at all, despite the gravity of the situation. Part of him kept feeling like it was fifth year again, and if they’d done this once, it would be even easier a second time. It was strange, drinking coffee and buttoning up his coat in the kitchen, as if it was normal to be breaking into the Ministry at two in the morning.

Hermione looked like she had never gone to sleep at all. She was wide awake, flipping through their plans and maps one last time as if this was an exam she could cram some last minute studying for. Ron was on the couch, looking like he was still asleep. He had a cup of tea in one hand and his wand in the other, with one button undone in his cloak and his hair sticking up at odd angles. He yawned and nodded blankly at Harry in a form of morning greeting.

“I’m ready when you are,” Harry said to Hermione, and she nodded, took a deep breath, and stood up, shoving the pile of papers away from her.

“I think we’re as ready as we can be,” she sighed. “Ron?”

He nodded silently and got up from the couch, stretching. Harry could hear his joints pop.

The three of them stood at the entrance to the tent, and Harry felt for a moment like it was just the three of them in the world. Here they were, again, ready to embark on some horrible, dangerous quest by his side. His best friends, the two people he loved most in the world.

“Let’s go.” he said, and opened the tent door, leading them out into the empty warehouse they had set up in.

“We’ll be here,” a lofty voice carried after him. Harry jumped- he hadn’t realized Luna was awake. “You know, when you realize you need us.”

None of them could think of anything to say to this, and Harry looked at Luna sadly, wishing she was coming with them.

“Bye, Luna,” Hermione sighed, and turned on the spot with Harry and Ron’s hands in hers, apparating into the night.

When the spinning stopped, Harry recognized immediately where they were- the guest entrance to the Ministry of Magic was just around the corner, and they were in a dimly lit alleyway in muggle London. Following the plan, Harry handed Hermione his glasses and pulled the invisibility cloak over his head. They’d all agreed that if anyone saw Harry, they’d be royally screwed.

Hermione transfigured Harry’s glasses while Ron worked on his own disguise. He was charming his hair into a darker, curlier red. Hermione helped him shift the placing of his cheekbones and lengthen his chin, and then handed Ron the glasses, which were now square and horn-rimmed. Ron looked almost _exactly_ like his brother Percy.

Together they did the same to Hermione- charming her hair to be black and straight, covering most of her face in shadow.

“Good enough, I’d say.” Ron said, looking her over. “You don’t look like you, as long as you don’t look up.”

“That’s all we need,” Hermione said quietly, looking left and right. “Harry, where are you?”

“I haven’t moved,” said Harry from beneath the cloak, and Hermione nodded.

“We’re ready. Follow me,” Hermione whispered.

The three of them walked, huddled together, across the dimly lit street in front of them. Harry was careful to step in-sync with at least one of them so his own footsteps wouldn’t echo obviously, even though it was very hard to see without his glasses. Eventually he stuck with holding on to the back of Ron’s cloak so he wouldn’t fall on his face.

The familiar broken down phone-booth waited ahead of them, and all three of them piled in. Hermione was careful to keep her head down, and Ron stood with his chest puffed out in a rather fitting, but exaggerated, impression of Percy. Harry crushed himself into the corner behind both of them, trying hard to make sure his feet weren’t poking out from under the cloak.

Ron punched the number code, which thankfully hadn’t changed, into the phone’s dial, and a cool female voice surrounded them.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic,” she said smartly, “Please state your name and business.”

“Percy Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic,” Ron said quickly, sounding as pompous as he could. “...and guest, Helena Parkinson. Here to meet with Unspeakables about the current status of the Department of Mysteries, section 4, subsection B2-”

“Thank you.” The voice interrupted him. Harry almost sighed with relief, but caught himself. “Visitor, please take the badge provided and attach it to the front of your robes. As offices are currently closed, your Ministry escort will be responsible for the registration of your wand at our security desk, located at the far end of the atrium. Welcome back, Assistant Weasley.”

Hermione’s badge read _Helena Parkinson, guest of Percy Weasley_ in shining black letters.

The floor of the booth shuttered, and the three of them sank slowly down into the Ministry. There were plenty of entrances they could have taken, but the floo network was always watched, and this was the entrance Percy usually used. That’s why they had chosen it- it wouldn’t seem odd for the Ministry to see Percy Weasley coming in at odd hours through this entrance, as he often worked late into the night. Percy had always been an overachiever, and as far as they knew, he was still loyal to the imperiused Minister.

Harry wondered, though, if they would look into the completely fictional witch, Helena Parkinson. She had a pureblood name, would that be enough? Were they even monitoring this entrance?

When the doors slid open, Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped into the atrium. Hermione gasped- it was the fountain. The jolly looking witch and wizard, along with their magical creature friends, had been replaced. The fountain was now a grotesque throne, with a wizard sitting atop it. Harry couldn’t figure out what it was made of, why it made him feel so uncomfortable.

“Muggles.” Hermione explained, her voice trembling. “In their rightful place.” Ron had given him back his glasses, but even without them he could have seen the tears in her eyes. This is what the ministry had come to now, then.

 

    +    +    +

 

    “Do you suppose they’ve realized they need us yet?” asked Luna, poking at the dying fire with her wand until it relit itself.

    _They won’t realize._ Draco spelled out, still bitter. He was shuffling through the papers Hermione had left on the kitchen counter. Maps, notes, and pictures. It was a good plan, he had to admit, but knowing Potter, something would go wrong. Potter just had that kind of luck.

    “So are we going, then?” Luna asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. She knew- of course she knew. He couldn’t just _sit here_ doing nothing, while the others threw themselves into a battle alone. They needed backup. They probably even knew that they needed it, though they wouldn’t admit it. That was fine. Nobody needed to tell Draco Malfoy what to do or when he was needed.

    _Yes,_ he answered Luna finally, golden text shimmering. _Let’s go save their sorry arses._

Luna beamed up at him, practically shining with pride. “I knew you cared about them,” she was looking at him with something familiar, something kind and warm.

    _I couldn’t care about them less._ He answered, but in his heart of hearts, Draco was worried about his friends. Friends, he called them, only where no one could hear. Friends.

    Luna looped her arm through his, and together they left the tent, wands at the ready. With a quick spin on his heel, Draco apparated them out into the night.

 

\+    +    +

 

The lift clanged shut, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood quietly as it called out the name of each floor they passed. There was a lonely, dying paper airplane, a last note left after work, buzzing feebly around the light over their heads. The fountain statue was burned into Harry’s mind, and he suspected theirs too- none of them had said a word since they’d seen it. It was one thing to know that the Ministry was under Voldemort’s control, but it was another to see a statue depicting muggles as something less than human, on display shamelessly in the main atrium.

“Harry,” Hermione said quietly, and Harry shrugged off the hood of the invisibility cloak so she could see his face. “Look at this.”

Hermione had snatched the paper airplane out of the air, and it was struggling feebly in her hand to escape. Then Harry saw who it was addressed to. _Dolores Umbridge._

As if on cue, the lift stopped, and the doors clanged open on the wrong floor. The note whipped from Hermione’s grasp at last and headed down the hallway alone. Without thinking, Harry jumped from the lift after it just as the doors shut, pulling the invisibility cloak back over his head. “I’ll meet you down there,” he called to Ron and Hermione, who both looked worried.

“Harry, don’t!” Hermione called, but he was already around the corner, and their lift was already sinking toward the next floor.

Harry would claim, afterwards, that he hadn’t _planned_ to absolutely ransack Umbridge’s office, but the thing was that once he was inside, he felt like he had to.

He had pulled Moody’s eye from her door before even going in. The sheer level of hatred and disrespect someone had to be made of to decorate their office door with a dead person’s _eyeball_ was enough to have Harry furious. Mad Eye hadn’t even had a funeral, they’d never even found his body. Harry wondered if she’d kept his prosthetic leg, too, the old hag.

Her office was plastered with posters of his own face, which was horrible and distracting- Undesirable Number One, he was called. Harry flipped through all of her files, noting whether people he knew were on her watch list. The Weasleys were all listed as _watched, whereabouts known._ There were many members of The Order who had escaped her knowledge, but Mad Eye and Dumbledore were listed as _taken care of._ After Harry read this, he set the drawer of files on fire- it wasn’t on purpose, but when the angry sparks had flown from his wand and caught on her desk, he hadn’t felt the need to put them out until after he’d seen the red X over Dumbledore’s face disappear into the flames.

Harry pocketed Rita Skeeter’s biography on Dumbledore, despite knowing it would make him angry. He reached out and snapped Umbridge’s sneak-o-scope in half, and after that, found something of a magical printing press. Stacks on stacks of muggle hating propaganda, pamphlets emblazoned with the ugly word _mudblood_ across the front. Harry thought for a moment, and then gathered these up, deciding that they would make very good kindling when he burned down the rest of her office on the way out. He tossed them in a big pile on her desk, and, for good measure, took an ugly bottle of perfume from a shelf and soaked them in it. He wouldn’t start the fire now, he thought, because they had a horcrux to find first.

Feeling rather rebellious, and wanting her to know _exactly_ who had done this when she inevitably found out, he left the office with a huge red phrase magically graffitied on her front door. _I MUST NOT TELL LIES._

With Mad Eye’s magical eye and the book about Dumbledore safely in his pockets, Harry stepped back into the lift, and headed down to the Department of Mysteries.

When he reached Ron and Hermione, they were waiting in the main hall, away from the doorway.

“We already took care of the Malfoys,” Hermione whispered, “Both stunned and given the sleeping draught. They won’t wake up unless someone comes along with an antidote- which will probably be in the morning when the Ministry workers come in.”

“Great job,” Harry replied, peering down the hall to look. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy lay side by side on the floor, their breathing loud and slow. “Did they fight you?” he asked, noticing that both of them looked rather ragged.

“No,” Ron shook his head. “They didn’t hear us coming. Thing is, I don’t think he’s even got a wand.” He looked towards Lucius, frowning. “Didn’t You-Know-Who take his? She had her wand out, but he was just… standing there behind her.”

“It’s awful,” Hermione whispered, leading them past the unconscious Malfoys and toward the Department door, “You’d think he’d treat his own followers a little better, you know. He only manipulates and threatens people to join him now. I can see how people would be drawn to his power before, but once they actually _meet_ him-”

“You’re thinking too hard about this, Hermione,” Ron sighed. “They’re all pieces of shit that think muggles and muggle-borns should die, don’t forget.”

“Right,” she mumbled. “That’s fair.”

Harry couldn’t help but look down at them while they passed. Before, he’d always thought Draco had looked very much like his father, and he did- but he looked more like Narcissa. Draco had Lucius’ sharp nose and pointed chin, and his slicked back hair, Harry had seen this even at Hogwarts. But now he wore his hair short and loose, and Harry could see that the particular shade of white-blonde was Narcissa’s. The high cheekbones, the shape of her hairline, the curve of her bottom lip, all of these were familiar now-

Ron pulled Harry by the arm into the Department of Mysteries, and the Malfoys were driven from his mind. They were in a round, dark room surrounded by indistinguishable black doors. They were here.

“Where should we look first?” Ron asked as the door closed behind them and the room began to spin.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Harry asked, thinking hard. “It probably wasn’t even here in fifth year. He had to have hidden it recently. We can’t even count out the rooms we’ve already seen.”

“Let’s do this one, then,” Hermione suggested, and as the room stopped spinning she marched straight ahead.

As she pulled the door open, she held it so Harry and Ron could walk in first. Harry watched her tie a piece of red yarn to the door handle. They had all agreed on this ahead of time. Last time they were here, they’d marked the doors with magic, but it had faded quickly. The room clearly had measures placed to help confuse its visitors, but if they didn’t use magic to mark their path, the magical ward on the room most likely wouldn’t work.

“Ah, bollocks,” Ron grimaced as they entered the room. Harry knew it at once, because it held quite a few unpleasant memories. It was the room with the tank full of floating brains they’d seen in fifth year, and it hadn’t changed a bit.

Ron rubbed his hands along his arms, probably thinking of the scars he still had there. It was definitely what Harry was thinking about as he watched the brains swim back and forth in the tank, their tentacle-like films trailing behind them.

“This must be the memory room,” Hermione said, clearing her throat. “We should check everything. It’s clearly not in the tank though, thank goodness.” Harry couldn’t remember if she had been in here when Ron had been attacked, but she was looking pointedly away from the glowing green liquid, too, so she knew.

Trying to regain his focus, Harry circled the tank, following the rows of desks. The room was set up almost like an academic doctor’s office, with the tank in the middle for everyone to see, and the desks in circles around it. Harry rifled through one desk after another, finding nothing that gave off the particular dark magic vibes of a horcrux.

Then again, they hadn’t known the locket was a horcrux when they first found it.

Most of the desks were filled with general office supplies, books and notes. Harry found one that had a photograph of a young girl in it, and was careful to replace what must be that desk owner’s daughter. Another desk contained something that was clearly a love letter, signed with hearts and sprayed with perfume. Harry didn’t read it.

Hermione was searching all of the shelves along the back wall, rifling through books and binders that were probably filled with research. Ron was on the opposite side of the room, looking in a long row of cabinets that seemed to hold older specimens of preserved brains- these didn’t move, and were all labeled.

“It’s not here,” Harry finally said after a few minutes. “We should move on,”

“All right,” Hermione agreed, putting away another book. “Let’s go.”

They returned to the spinning room, and to their relief, the red string stayed right where they left it as the room spun.

The next door they tried was the one they had come through- Hermione tied a blue ribbon to this handle, so they’d know to come back to it.

The door after this one was another familiar room, but it was different now.

The Hall of Prophecy had been completely redone since they’d seen it last. The towering shelves were gone. The huge room was almost completely empty, and Harry felt a horrible pang of guilt. The floor still had scuff marks, where they’d knocked over the shelves. How many hundreds, thousands of prophecies had been destroyed? Was it a good thing that they would never be heard again, or a curse on the people who were named? He’d never even spared a thought to the prophecies lost.

“This can’t be it,” Hermione spoke, her voice cracking. “This is all that’s left?”

There were about fifty of them, the tiny glass orbs floating in the center of the room, encased by a ball of light. Harry guessed it was some kind of shield, to keep them from being touched. In front of the shield was a spindly table and chair, with one very large book collecting dust on the table.

“What’s this then?” Ron asked, and he opened the book. It looked like a scrapbook, tiny pieces of paper pasted close together on each page. Then Harry realized what it was- the labels that had been on every prophecy. Some of them were marked out in red ink, but most of them were just _there,_ part of the infinite list of possibilities of what could be left over after all the destruction.

“It’s not in here either, I’d bet,” Harry sighed, looking around. It didn’t even look like there was anything else in the room.

They were quick, searching into even the dark corners, sweeping their hands along the walls and floor, but again they found nothing. They went back into the spinning room again after only a few minutes. Harry was hopeful that the next room they went in would be different, something they hadn’t seen before. Despite his unpleasant memories from this particular part of the Ministry, he was curious to see what was left, the rooms he hadn’t touched.

The next door they opened was much more unpleasant.

The death chamber. The colosseum-like arena centered around the archway Sirius had died in.

“Not here,” Harry said, and he wasn’t sure if he meant the horcrux, or himself. He couldn’t go back in there. He wouldn’t. Not here.

“You can hold the door, Harry. We have to check,” Hermione said quietly, and she squeezed his hand before stepping down the first stone step. The room was too big, bigger than the others, and _ancient,_ you could almost smell the age of it. Harry focused on the sound of his own breathing so he wouldn’t hear the voices. Not this time.

“You okay, mate?” Ron whispered, looking at Harry with concern.

“It’s not here.” Harry said, his voice cracking. “He’s afraid of death. He wouldn’t put a piece of himself in here.”

“You’re probably right. We’ve got to look, though.” Ron sighed. He clasped Harry’s shoulder briefly on his way in, careful not to leave Hermione. “We’ll be quick, Harry.”

Harry stood in the doorway and his eyes seemed to unfocus, blurring everything except for that horrible archway. He didn’t want to remember Sirius falling, as if in slow motion, through that fluttering curtain. He didn’t want to wonder what made it move without wind, whose voices called from behind it. He didn’t want to think about what was in there, or what would have happened if Lupin hadn’t held him back from touching it.

As if it could read his mind, the curtain did something odd. For one second, not even a second, maybe a blink- Harry thought he saw something _behind it._ A shadow, moving there.

Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Maybe the lack of sleep had gotten to him, and his mind was playing tricks on him. Harry wanted to rush forward, wanted to warn Ron and Hermione, even if he _was_ seeing things. He wanted to move, but it was as if a force was holding him back, keeping him in his place. It was like he was caught in a body-bind curse, his breath harsh and uneven, like he was back on that tower, and-

It was responding to him. He knew it now. As soon as he had thought of the tower, the split-second the thought of Dumbledore, the thought of death, crossed his mind, he saw it move again. This time there was no pretending it was a trick. The curtain moved, and behind it, Harry saw it. There was a huge, dark, hulking figure behind the curtain, and it was staring right at him.

Ron and Hermione were on opposite sides of the room from each other, searching the nooks and crannies for the horcrux. They couldn’t possibly have seen. The curtain closed again, and the figure disappeared, but Harry knew it was there waiting. Waiting for _him._

“Ron! Hermione!”

“What’s wrong?” Hermione turned to face him, but Harry’s eyes hadn’t left the curtain.

“Get out of there, I saw- just get up here.” Harry tried to keep the fear from his voice.

“Are you all right?”

“COME ON!” Harry shouted, because the curtain had opened again, and now he could _really_ see it. Something with a humanoid shape, almost ten feet tall, unfolded from within the curtain, and as it stood Harry saw that it _was_ the curtain, or was made from it. It wore a long, flowing cloak like the ones dementors wore, but this one was clean and new. Almost too unblemished, as if it was never touched, not made by human hands. Its own hands were skeletal and long fingered, its skin hanging from its bones like torn strips. It was a dead, rotten thing, trying to cover itself up in a fresh cloak and someone else’s skin.

Harry barely registered Ron and Hermione’s shouts. Everything was in the distance now, Ron and Hermione were miles away, nothing mattered but that _thing_ staring him down. He couldn’t see its face, but he could see the teeth in its mouth, because it was grinning horribly. Teeth like a feral dog, too sharp and long to be human, but fit disgustingly in a human-shaped mouth, which opened wide. Too wide, like a snake’s mouth with a jaw unhinging.

 _“You, boy,”_ it spoke, its teeth so long they scraped against each other. Its mouth was hanging open, it didn’t look like it was speaking but Harry could still hear it. Even without eyes he felt like the thing saw down into his very soul. “ _You have escaped me for so many yearssss,”_

It was hissing now. Its tongue flopped out like a horrible, slimy rope, and the thing seemed to have to push its own tongue back into its mouth. It was falling apart, but still managing to crawl, on all fours, out from under the arch, its bones creaking and popping as it came.

“ _Sssseven times I have come for you, boy,”_ its horrible voice spoke so loudly that it was shaking the room, the steps of the colosseum were beginning to crumble. “ _You will not sssslip by me again,”_ One of its misshapen hands stretched forward, as if to grab hold of him, but just in time, someone grabbed Harry and pulled him back. The thing swiped at him, but only managed to barely touch the front of his robes.

“ _YOU ARE ONLY A FRACTION,”_ it screeched after him as Ron tugged him backward and Hermione rushed to shut the door, finally close enough for Harry to see its horrible, rotting face. “ _YOU ARE NOTHING, AND I AM EVERYTHING, I AM INEVITABLE, I AM YOUR ONLY FATE, I AM-”_

The door slammed closed and Hermione stood, panting, against it. She turned to seal it shut with magic, and the room began to spin as soon as she was done. Harry could still see the face in his mind. The matted remains of what had once been the monster’s fur had clung to its flaps of rotten skin. The yellow and blood-flecked eyes, too human for an animal and too inhuman to forget. Its teeth, shining and canine. Harry knew without asking anyone exactly what he had seen. He finally understood the wizarding world’s fear of those lonely black dogs, but it hadn’t been dogs that had frightened those people to death.

Harry had seen The Grim. The real one.

He looked down at the front of his robes as the room still spun around them. Hermione and Ron were speaking frantically, but they were words Harry couldn’t focus on. There were three long streaks down his chest where the thing’s fingers had grazed him, grey like the fabric had been burned. When he touched his robes, they crumbled into ash, leaving Harry in only his muggle clothing, covered in dust.

“Harry,” Hermione sobbed.

“We… what was that thing?” Ron asked, his face whiter than parchment. “We couldn’t see it, Harry. We could hear it, and we saw what it did to the stone, and-”

“It can’t leave that room.” Harry said, and he was certain.

“What? Harry, could you see-”

“It was Death.” Harry said. “It can’t leave the death chamber. We’re fine as long as we don’t go back in there.” He sounded braver than he felt. His whole body was numb and cold. The room stopped spinning. There was an ashen gray handprint on the death chamber door, and Harry turned toward the one farthest from it next. “Come on,” he said, “We still have to find the horcrux.”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, terrified, and followed Harry into the next door.

 

\+    +    +

 

“Should we wake them?” Luna asked, eyes wide, looking up at Draco.

His mother and father lay peacefully on the floor side by side.

 _Only my mother,_ he spelled to Luna, _Tell her to run. Don’t let her see me. She won’t go if she does._

It was a quick decision, but he knew, the right one. If his mother and father were caught here asleep in the morning, they would be killed. There was no way the five of them could get out of here, with a horcrux, without the Dark Lord’s knowledge. If the Malfoys were found here, defeated again by Harry Potter, the horcrux they were supposed to guard destroyed, he would be furious. They wouldn’t escape his wrath with just torture this time.

Draco slunk behind an office door and Luna nodded to him, waiting until she heard the faint click of the lock before she woke Narcissa. Draco watched, hardly able to breathe, through the keyhole. His parents looked more ragged and worn than he had ever seen them, even out of the Dark Lord’s grasp as they were.

“Ennervate,” Luna spoke quietly, and slipped a few drops of the potion into her mouth. Draco’s mother began to stir. He felt his heart clench. She had a bruise blooming under her right eye he hadn’t noticed until now.

“I- hello?” Narcissa blinked up at Luna, looking dazed, and then her eyes opened wide. “You!” She gasped, clutching her chest, and Luna crouched down next to her.

“It’s okay, Missus Malfoy,” she said, and her voice was calm and respectful, and Draco felt his heart clench again, because everything about Luna was so wonderful.

“Is my son with you? Is Draco all right?” Narcissa asked immediately.

“He’s safe,” Luna said reassuringly, placing a hand on Narcissa’s shoulder. “He asked me to make sure you get away from here. You need to run. This is your chance to escape.”

Narcissa looked wide-eyed from Luna to the door of the Department of Mysteries, and Draco knew she’d already figured it out. His mother was always quick to catch on.

“Harry Potter is here, isn’t he,” she said in a terrified whisper, a statement more than a question.

Luna frowned. “You need to run, Missus Malfoy.”

“If you are with him, Potter- tell him it’s the diadem. It’s in the Hall of Knowledge. Ironic,” she paused, “That’s where Ravenclaw would have wanted it, I suppose.” She spoke quickly but looked heartbroken. Draco knew that she regretted a lot that had happened, but a diadem? What was she talking about?

“The _diadem?_ It’s here, and it’s a horcrux?” Luna looked heartbroken now too.

“Yes,” Narcissa sighed, “The Hall of Knowledge. Tell Potter. He can destroy it.”

“I will,” Luna said, helping Narcissa to her feet.

“Is he in good health? Is he happy, with you?” Narcissa asked as she pulled Draco’s father up from the floor to rest on her shoulder. He was still magicked to sleep. Narcissa looked like she couldn’t look Luna in the eye.

“He’s wonderful.” Luna smiled gently.

“For what it’s worth,” Narcissa turned back to her, “I’m so sorry. I never would have… I didn’t want to…”

“Keep me imprisoned in your basement? That’s all right. I know it wasn’t you.”

Narcissa didn’t blush, but her cheeks did flush a little. “Thank you.” She said to the floor. Luna smiled.

“Take the walk-in entrance out of here, and then apparate as soon as you’re out of the wards. Get as far away from here as you can.” She explained.

“We will,” Narcissa answered, and with surprising strength, lifted her limp husband over her shoulder. “Tell Draco I love him. I understand why he chose you. Why he chose Potter.” her voice cracked. “I do not blame him.”

Unless Draco was seeing things, it was pride shining in his mother’s eyes. Luna nodded, and then his parents disappeared down the dark hallway. Draco waited until he could no longer hear his mother’s heels clicking across the marble floor before he wiped his eyes and returned to Luna in the hallway.

 _Diadem?_ He spelled to her.

“Oh, Ravenclaw’s diadem.” Luna said brightly in the voice she always used when explaining something she was excited about. “It’s fabled to make your mind clear and open so you can learn easier than ever,” she said as they turned to the Department of Mysteries. “Daddy was trying forever to recreate it, and Ravenclaws have been searching for centuries for it.” Her voice dipped into a sadder tone. “He must have been brilliant, to have found it first,” she finished.

 _Or he tricked his way into getting it somehow,_ Draco spelled. Even with all of his fear of the Dark Lord, Draco didn’t believe someone as impatient as he was had the ability to find something that had been missing for hundreds of years. He had probably manipulated someone into getting it for him- much the same as he did everything else.

Before they’d left the tent, Draco had studied the maps Granger had put together as thoroughly as he had time to. They were excellent, of course, and even though Draco had never been inside the Department of Mysteries before, he knew the spinning room as soon as he entered it. This was just the foyer to a house of horrors.

 _Where is he,_ Draco thought to himself, but as soon as the room stopped spinning, Luna had his answer.

“The door with the blue ribbon is the one we came through,” she supplied, “so the red ones must be doors they’ve already checked.”

 _Which one will they be in now, though?_ Draco asked, looking around. _Did they tie the string before they went in or after they came out?_

“I wonder what _that_ is,” Luna wondered, ignoring him. She pointed to a horrible looking ashen mark on one of the doors. It had a red ribbon- they’d faced whatever that was. Draco tried not to worry. Not the time. Compartmentalize. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about Potter.

 _Should we just wait for them to come out?_ He asked, pacing. _They’ll come back to this room no matter what, won’t they?_

“Yes, they’ll have to,” Luna said. “To mark it off on their list.” She was walking around now, touching each of the doors, counting on her fingers.

 _What is it?_ Draco asked.

“I’m trying to find out which is which without opening the doors,” Luna explained. “After we came here in fifth year, I did my research, tried to find out what was here. Unspeakables are very interesting, you know.”

Draco had thought many times in the past year that it would be his only career path, if he survived the war and didn’t end up in Azkaban. Sworn never to speak or have anyone speak to him. The perfect place for a social pariah who had once followed the Dark Lord. He knew a little about Unspeakables, but mostly because he’d feared becoming one.

“The Love Investigatory is the locked door, I know that,” Luna was saying, “And I’ve been inside the Time Chamber, the Hall of Prophecy, the Space Exploration Hall, the Memory Room, and the Death Chamber.”

 _Death Chamber??_ Draco hoped the shining gold words didn’t reflect how worried he actually was. Luna would think he was pathetic if she knew.

“Well, yes, I think they used to have trials there. At least, that’s what it looked like. It has a doorway to the other side.”

Draco didn’t want to think about that. _So what’s left over, then? What are the other four rooms?_

“I think- though I’m not certain- a lot of these go together, right? Like time and space, or prophecy and memory. So I think, if there’s a room of death, there must be one for life. If there’s a room for love, there’s one for hate. We all know strong emotion creates powerful magic, the Unspeakables are probably looking into it. And the last will be for knowledge- your mother said that’s the one we need, so we know it’s here- and the opposite of knowing.”

_What’s the opposite of knowing?_

“Fearing, of course.”

Draco hoped beyond hope that they wouldn’t have to go through a room investigating the magic of fear, but they had to check all of them if they were going to find the others.

Luna was sitting cross-legged on the floor now. “No sense in standing while we wait,” she had shrugged. “They’ll come out.”

Draco couldn’t sit. He paced.

And of course, just as he feared, they’d been there for only a few minutes when Draco heard a scream come from the door nearest him.

“Hermione!” Luna jumped up.

Draco grabbed hold of her and then wrenched open the door. He immediately lost his balance, and he and Luna toppled forward into empty blackness. Draco screamed too.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been here!” Luna said, grasping tightly to Draco’s hand so they wouldn’t slip away from each other. “This is _space!_ Now help me look for them, we can do this! Follow my lead!”

 

\+    +    +

   

The crushing blackness swirled around them, making Harry nauseous and wishing he knew which way was up. It had been clear pretty quickly that if the horcrux was in this room, they’d never find it. Sometimes they were just floating in the dark. Other times they could see stars, or planets, and it was beautiful for a moment before they spun too fast and knocked the three of them out of orbit.

They were holding hands, all three of them, because it was the only way they’d stay together. There was no way to navigate here, no way to pull yourself through it. They just floated, endlessly, hoping something would come along and push them toward a door they couldn’t see.

So when it happened, none of them saw it coming. It had been a while since they had last seen light, but Harry’s eyes still hadn’t adjusted, and suddenly he heard a whooshing sound. It took a split second for Harry to realize that there was a huge rock barreling toward them, but by then it was too late. The asteroid struck, and Hermione _screamed,_ and Harry could hear the crunch of bone as he lost his grip on Ron’s hand.

“HERMIONE!” Ron shouted, and Harry hoped he at least still held her hand, because Harry was alone.

Hermione was sobbing. “I’m okay, Ronald, where’s Harry?”

“Here!” Harry called, already knowing they were far away.

“I think it crushed my leg,” he heard Hermione cry.

“Hold on to me,” Ron said, and Harry started to panic. He couldn’t see Hermione and Ron. How would he reach them again?

“Ron, see if you can grab hold of something!” he called over to them. “I’m getting… I’m getting pulled away from you! Don’t lose each other!”

“We won’t, mate, just get to the door and meet us in the middle!”

And then there was a flash of blue light that nearly blinded him, and another scream.

“What was that?” Ron called, but his voice was getting fainter now. Whatever was pulling Harry backwards was starting to move faster.

“Guys,” Harry called. “Something’s got me!” Still thinking of The Grim’s horrible rotting face, Harry felt as if whatever was at the end of this pulling force was likely to destroy him, and Death would finally have him, after all these years.

“No, don’t let go!” Someone shouted, but it wasn’t Ron or Hermione.

“Luna!?” Harry shouted, and then the pull behind him became much stronger, and Harry could feel the pressure in his ears pop as he was sucked backward into, if at all possible, an even darker void. The air became so hard to breathe that he felt like he was drowning, and then it started to get hot- and Harry knew.

A dying sun became a black hole. So far they hadn’t _seen_ the sun, only the planets supposed to be spinning around it and distant stars. Harry was going to be pulled so hard into this dying sun that he would be crushed, if he didn’t burn to death or die from lack of oxygen first.

Then another force, a different one, slammed into him, and Harry felt but could not see arms wrap around him. Someone had tackled him, and the two of them launched away from the black hole, spinning through empty blackness for only a moment until they collided with something hard- a door, Harry realized, because the knob was stabbing him in the ribs.

“I’ve got it,” he said, and then reached awkwardly around behind himself to grab it- the door swung open, and as if gravity had suddenly been turned back on, they fell with an extreme lack of grace into the next room, tangling up with each other on the floor. Harry’s breath had been knocked out of him.

“Malfoy,” he gasped, looking up into a pale, pointed face. The room they were in now was flooded with warm pink light, and the vacuum of real air had sucked the door behind them closed. Malfoy’s hair was brushing Harry’s forehead, and their noses were almost touching. Malfoy’s eyes widened in shock, and Harry, so close to him now, thought he could see flecks of dark blues and greens in the grey of his eyes. He could swear Malfoy was blushing. It was hard to tell when his face was already bathed in pink.

After a heartbeat, the two of them scrambled away from each other- Malfoy seemed to have tried to catch himself in the fall, and that meant both of his hands were on Harry’s chest. Harry could feel the heat left there even after Malfoy had pulled away. Catching his breath, it took Harry a second or two more to pull himself off the floor.

“Where are we?” Harry asked, looking around, because this was _not_ the spinning room. The room smelled weirdly familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d had this particular sensation before. There was the sound of running water, and Harry turned around to see a huge fountain in the center of the room. It towered up almost to the ceiling, with seven layers of basins, each splashing and overflowing down into the next. The floor around it had a drain surrounding the base of the fountain, because it seemed not to be able to contain itself- it was splashing over constantly, and filled the whole room with a shimmering mist. The liquid itself was glowing pink, the only source of light in the room. The walls were lined with shelves, and directly across from them, on the other side of the fountain, was another door.

“Malfoy, how did you- what are you doing here?” Harry asked, looking at him. Malfoy was warily inspecting the fountain, an odd, familiar look on his face.

 _Does it matter? You clearly needed us,_ he spelled in the air without looking back at Harry. _We should be looking for that horcrux. Did you check this room already?_

“No,” Harry answered honestly, “But-”

 _Luna and I talked to my mother,_ Malfoy continued, _she said the horcrux was in the Hall of Knowledge, wherever that is. This doesn’t look like the Hall of Knowledge to me._

“Your mother?” Harry asked, “but-”

 _We told her to get out of here. She’s probably halfway across the continent by now._ Malfoy said, still not looking back at Harry. _We should check this room, just in case. She said the horcrux was a diadem._

“What’s a diadem?” Harry asked, but Malfoy only shrugged. Harry turned to look at the shelves- what would a hall of knowledge look like? There was something about that fountain that made him want to turn around and stare at it. He had a bad feeling that he shouldn’t, so he kept his eyes on the shelves, inspecting everything.

The vaguely familiar smell of the room was off-putting. He found it hard to focus in the warmth and the steam pouring from the fountain. And Malfoy. Something about the past few minutes had Harry’s heart beating in overtime. Why had Malfoy come for him? Again, Malfoy had saved his life. Harry was starting to feel admiration toward him, kinship, possibly, something he never thought he’d feel towards Malfoy.

Malfoy hadn’t even known they were in danger. He was getting nothing out of this. He had come just to help them.

The shelves in front of him were small, each holding one bell jar each, arranged in a circle on the wall with six shelves on the outside and one in the center. The bell jars all had thin cloth covering them, so Harry moved to take them each off.

What he found under the first covering was horrific, but once he uncovered the rest, he found they only got worse as he went. There was a human heart in each of the jars, some of them still, some of them still beating. One was charred and black, beating irregularly. One was perfectly healthy looking, but was still, and leaked fresh blood into the bottom of the jar. One of them had what looked like _hair_ growing out of it. The worst, though, was the one in the middle. It was smaller than all the rest, and though it didn’t beat, it drew Harry’s eye like a car crash he couldn’t help but watch.

He knew it was a child’s heart. A very young child’s, probably. If it was true that your heart was around the size of your fist, this heart had to have belonged to a toddler. He could feel it pulling him in like a magnet, golden ichor pulsing through it even though it wasn’t beating.

“Malfoy,” he called, still staring at the wall of hearts, “We should go. Now.”

Malfoy didn’t answer. Harry wrenched his eyes away from the heart to look around- something about turning away from it made his chest hurt with longing.

“Malfoy?” he called again.

Across the room, Malfoy was standing very still, looking at something Harry could not see. Harry crossed the room quickly, fearing another wall of hearts, but what he found instead was something familiar. Malfoy stood, tears streaming down his face, staring into the Mirror of Erised.

“Shit,” Harry muttered. That was it, then. This was the locked room they hadn’t been able to enter before. Love magic. The fountain was amortentia, and that was why it was so familiar. The hearts on the wall, and now a mirror that showed _your heart’s greatest desire_. But he didn’t have time to ask Malfoy what he saw there, or why he was crying, he had to drag him away.

Malfoy didn’t even struggle as Harry carried him limply across the room to the other door, trying to ignore the pounding in his ears. Just as he turned to pull the door shut behind them, he saw the child’s heart beat, once, and it filled him with such a sick feeling that he had to sink to the floor once the door was shut, catching his breath.

“Malfoy, are you okay?” Harry asked, swallowing against the urge to vomit, because Malfoy was sitting limply on the floor beside him, breathing hard.

 _I couldn’t move._ The golden words answered, after a beat or two. _If you hadn’t pulled me away, I was afraid I would be trapped there forever._

“That’s the Mirror of Erised,” Harry explained, “It used to be at Hogwarts. Dumbledore told me even the greatest wizards have wasted away in front of it. They couldn’t look away.” He was surprised to find himself talking about Dumbledore with Malfoy. “It’s supposed to show what you want- what your heart desires. What did you see?”

Malfoy shook his head, his eyes wide with fear.

_We have to keep looking. Where are we now?_

They weren’t back in the spinning room, Harry realized, but somewhere else. How many of these rooms connected to each other? When would they get out?

“If it’s not the right one, we should just leave,” Harry said, wary of another trap.

It didn’t look like a Hall of Knowledge. Long, brightly lit tables lined the walls, and there were animals of all shapes and sizes resting in cages. They didn’t look unhappy, or trapped. Most of them were sleeping, aside from a large toad in one corner that was croaking at them loudly. Harry was surprised they could sleep in such a brightly lit room. It was clean, and warm, though, and even the air in this room felt fresher and lighter than it had all night. Harry wished that they could just stay in here, in fact, but he could tell that this room was too… _good_ to hold a horcrux. In fact, it was like all the energy he’d wasted sprinting through the Ministry was coming back to him.

 _Let’s go,_ Malfoy wrote, but when Harry looked at him, he looked brighter, calmer, as if he too could feel the effects of the room. His face was suspiciously dry and clean, and his cheeks were pinker than usual, though Harry didn’t think he was blushing. He looked, dare Harry admit to himself, nice. He looked healthy, and if possible, slightly more attractive than usual.

Harry caught himself staring and straightened up at once. “Yeah, this isn’t the room.”

Malfoy got to his feet, and the two of them walked together into the spinning room, sighing in relief.

 

\+    +    +

 

The pain in Hermione’s leg was bad, but it could have been much worse. At least, that’s what she told herself while she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

She had watched in amazement as Malfoy sailed across the Space Exploration Hall, his wand shooting sparks that propelled him through the void, and tackled Harry at full speed, pulling him away from the black hole. Hermione had suspected for a while now that he was someone she could trust, even though Ron and Harry pushed him away. If she hadn’t been convinced before, the look on Draco’s face now as he rushed in to save Harry was proof enough. Malfoy had no reason to help them now, he gained nothing from it, yet here he was.

She had felt so awful, telling him he couldn’t come with them, and he came anyway. It was something she would expect of Harry, not Draco.

Luna had gotten the brilliant idea to summon them to her from the wall, where she had applied a sticking charm. Together the three of them, with Ron carefully holding Hermione as they went, made it to a doorway. They had been spun around so much in the open space that Hermione wasn’t sure which room this door would lead to, but she had a feeling it wasn’t the same one Harry and Draco had disappeared into, and when Luna opened the door, she knew she was right.

It was dark, and cold, much like the room they’d just left, but this one had a musty smell like an old basement. She didn’t feel comfortable here, but she hoped it was just the already huge ball of anxious nerves in her gut telling her that for no reason.

Ron set her down as gently as he could and got to his knees on the floor beside her. “How is it?” he asked quietly, one hand still on her shoulder.

“I’m all right- it’s not the worst break I’ve had, but I’m sure it’s broken,” she sighed.

Luna pulled out her wand. “Well, you shouldn’t do the healing spell yourself, it’s always more difficult that way,” she suggested. “Episkey!”

Hermione groaned as her bones snapped back together with a loud crack, and Ron gripped her hand tightly. She was very glad she hadn’t been separated from him, too.

“That won’t heal all of it,” Luna explained, and Hermione knew this, but she was too busy clenching her jaw to say so. “We’ll have to make her a splint- Ron, do you know how?”

“Yeah,” Ron answered, his voice rough. “Learned when I was running from snatchers.” He was already rummaging in the beaded bag for supplies.

While Ron bandaged up her leg, Hermione listened to Luna explain what she and Draco had learned from Narcissa Malfoy. The horcrux, which was apparently _the lost diadem of Ravenclaw,_ was in a room called the Hall of Knowledge, which Hermione was sure they hadn’t encountered yet. She would definitely have liked to see part of the ministry dedicated to learning, but not now, when the real knowledge had probably been destroyed along with the fountain.

Hermione snapped out of her reverie when Ron cupped her face in his hands.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “How does it feel? Think you can walk on it?” his thumb slid back and forth across her cheek in a comforting motion that Hermione wasn’t sure he even noticed he was doing.

She put pressure on her leg, leaning forward a little as if she was about to stand, and it felt surprisingly stable. Still far too painful to walk without a limp, but much, much better than it had been.

“I think I’ll be okay,” she answered, sighing.

This particular room had an eerie shimmering light coming from the floor in the opposite corner, and the light was bouncing across Ron’s face, making his blue eyes particularly bright. He bit his lip, resting one hand underneath Hermione’s elbow, and helped her stand. They stood side by side, one of Ron’s arms wrapped around her as Hermione found her footing. She looked up into his face and caught him staring at her, eyes wide and worried, still biting his lip.

For just a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

“What do you think this is?” Luna asked, and the moment broke.

Luna was pointing up to something hanging on the wall. It reminded Hermione of a preserved insect, pinned to a board and then framed.

“It’s not human, is it?” Ron asked, horrified, but still stepping closer for a better look.

“No, but it might have been, once,” Luna said quietly.

“What does that even _mean?_ ” Hermione replied, disgruntled. “Are you saying it was a person that _became_ something else?”

There _was_ something oddly human about it. It had what was clearly a head, arms, and a torso, with bony hands that had five fingers just like theirs. Where its legs should have been there was only a long, twisting tail.

“I don’t know,” Luna shrugged and turned away. “I think that door there is the way to the spinning room.” She left Ron and Hermione staring at the body and headed across the room.

Something about it felt familiar. It was horrible. It’s skin was grey and loose like it had been rotting for a while before they preserved it, and Hermione couldn’t see any eyes, only a mouth that looked more like a gaping wound.

“I swear these fingers look like bones to me.” Ron shook his head, grimacing with disgust, and then followed after Luna.

And then it hit her.

“It’s a dementor! Without the cloak!” she called after them, and Luna and Ron turned to look at her. Suddenly, the eerie glow in the floor became obvious, and the three of them looked down all at once to see shimmering balls of light twisting and turning through each other under the glass floor.

Souls. They were human souls.

The three of them bolted from the room as fast as they could, and it was only Hermione’s limp slowing her down that gave her enough time to remember to tie a piece of string to the door before slamming it closed.

Ron sank to the floor beside her while the room spun around them, looking pale. Then Hermione realized they had finally caught up to Harry and Draco, who were sitting back to back on the floor across the room. Draco was leaning back, his eyes closed and his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. Harry had his head in his hands, breathing hard.

“Harry! You’re okay,” Ron sighed, standing back up. Harry and Draco both startled at the sound of his voice.

“Hey!” Harry said, grinning, but looking pained. What room had the two of them seen?

“We just came from the soul room, I think,” Luna said grimly. “Did you find the Hall of Knowledge?”

“No,” Harry sighed, “but we saw two other rooms. One was the love room, I think, it had a bunch of hearts on the wall and a fountain of love potion. The other had animals in it, and it was just, weird, I don’t know. Didn’t seem like a room for knowledge. We’ve been out here waiting for you a while.”

“Oh, well then,” Hermione said quickly, “if you two saw two rooms and we saw one, that leaves only two options none of us have seen. We have a fifty-fifty chance of getting the right one the first time.”

“Why don’t we just… open them both at the same time? There’s no magic preventing that, is there?” Ron asked. Hermione was sometimes amazed at the things Ron thought of that she hadn’t. This was one of those times.

Harry, because of course he would, strode forward with purpose, grabbing the first handle. Ron grabbed the second, and they pulled.

“Not this one for sure,” Harry said quickly, snapping his door shut. Hermione had caught a glimpse of a room that looked like it was filled with smoke.

“This one’s a library! That’s got to be it!” Ron shouted, and all of them wheeled around.

It was, indeed, a library. The largest, most ridiculously expansive library Hermione had ever seen. The shelves were so tall that the tops were not even visible. The halls were so long that it looked like they went on forever.

“Oooh,” Luna sighed, smiling. “This is the most interesting room here!”

She was right. Hermione had never been more interested in a single room before in her life. There were winding stairs up the sides of every bookcase, and bridges that criss-crossed high above their heads, connecting higher shelves. This room alone could hold several of Hogwarts’ library, and that was only the part she could see.

“How are we supposed to find the horcrux in all _this?”_ Harry sighed, looking around.

 _Split up?_ Draco suggested, gold letters shimmering. _We could send up sparks if we find it, or if we need help?_

“Good idea,” Hermione added, “but these shelves are so high I’m not sure if we’d see sparks. Maybe send out a spell that will cause a loud noise, but not much damage.”

“Oh, Fred and George made up something as a joke once,” Ron suggested, “You just point your wand up and say _flashbang._ It’s just what it sounds like. A loud bang and a bright light. They used to use it to scare mum all the time.”

“Good enough for me,” Harry said. “Let’s go.”

Luna set off alone in one direction, Malfoy and Harry in the other. Ron looped his arm through Hermione’s and they walked together into the dark, twisting maze of the shelves.

It seemed like ages before anything happened. Ron was pulling books off the shelves at random, just to find some interesting titles. Most of the books were things Hermione had never seen or heard of, and they weren’t organized well at all. Everything was alphabetical, but they weren’t separated by genre or author. No one here had heard of the Dewey Decimal System, clearly. Muggle cookbooks were right next to wizard children’s fiction, and books about the dark arts could be found between raunchy romance novels.

The further they traveled from the door, the harder it was to understand the library. Books were piled on the floor in stacks, some left open and dog-eared. There were dusty cobwebs across some of the shelves, and the bridges and staircases were falling apart. Eventually it didn’t look like the books were organized at all, just tossed in piles on the floor as they were brought in.

Ron, who seemed to be clinging to Hermione’s arm much tighter now, had stopped touching books. Some of them were so ancient back here that they were crumbling to dust, bound with leather and filled with papyrus pages.

More than once, the books blocked their path so thoroughly that they had to turn back and try a different row. Unlike when they first came in, Hermione no longer felt the urge to explore. Something about these books was wrong.

One row in particular had stacks of common muggle notebooks that were filled with someone’s writings. In the next, they saw two large rats fighting over a newspaper. The farther they walked, the more bizarre it seemed, until finally, the books didn’t have names on their spines anymore. All of the books lying open on the floor had only blank pages.

Hermione could feel a tightening in her chest, the beginnings of a feeling she didn’t want to face. Her heart began to race the further they went, and it felt like the hallways were closing in on them, but still held just as many books. The shelves loomed over them, so high even now that they could not see the top. It was getting harder to breathe. This was wrong. They shouldn’t be here.

The flashbang brought on her panic attack in full force, and Hermione jumped and then wobbled on her broken leg, struggling to breathe. Ron clung to her as her vision became spotty, and her heart thundered against her ribcage painfully. _This is so stupid!_ She told herself. _Now isn’t the time, someone could be in danger-_ but the air was pressing in on her and the room went on forever and they were _lost,_ there was no way they’d get back to-

“...Mione?” Ron was calling her name but she heard it as if it was coming from underwater. Something inside her was still screaming for her to run, but you couldn’t run with a broken leg.

“Hermione. Breathe.” Ron said, and she looked up at him, trying to focus. When had she sunk to the floor? _Oh, god, she was touching this disgusting rotted floor and-_

Ron had a hand on each of her shoulders. “I’ll breathe, okay? Slowly. Just do what I do. Come on, Hermione.” He took a long, slow breath in, and she tried her best to follow along.

Her breathing was shaky, but Ron sat there with her, keeping her steady, breathing with her over and over.

“What happened? Want me to carry you out of here?” He asked quietly, already pulling her close.

“No I’m. I’m fine. I just panicked, it’s just… it’s just this room getting to me, I think.” Hermione’s mind and heart were both still racing but at least her breathing had slowed.

Ron helped her to her feet. “Luna set off the flashbang,” he explained, “I bet she found the diadem.”

Hermione looked up at him- it was not common that someone was able to pull her out of one of her panic attacks. For years she’d tried to hide them from Harry and Ron, her frantic panicking and overthinking school assignments had just seemed like something silly. The night they all picked Harry up from the Dursleys, however, she’d had a panic attack so bad that Ron had walked in on her sobbing in the Weasleys’ kitchen at two in the morning. Ever since then, he’d done his best to be there for her.

Ron was so, so very sweet.

They headed in the direction the noise had come from and Hermione squeezed Ron’s hand. He leaned in and pressed a very soft, quick kiss to her forehead.

Hermione was still blushing when they caught up with Luna.

Harry, Draco, and Luna stood around a pedestal. This part of the library was apparently the direction they should have gone. It was clean, beautiful, with artifacts in glass cases and well loved, but well cared for, books on the shelves.

“Can you hear that?” Luna asked them, voice small. “This is it, isn’t it?”

“I don’t hear anything,” Harry said, looking at Luna with worry. Hermione remembered that every other time Luna or Harry heard or saw something they weren’t supposed to see, the other could sense it too. Like the thestrals, or the voices in the Death Chamber. Not this time.

The diadem of Ravenclaw, a simple tiara, sat upon the pedestal. There was no glass here, unlike every other artifact displayed in the hall. The faint words etched into the silver said _Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure._

Without warning, Luna grabbed the diadem and pulled it from its pedestal. As soon as it was in her hands, the room began to shake.

“RUN!” Harry shouted, and Ron scooped Hermione up into his arms and the whole lot of them sprinted as fast as they could back to the door, with books falling and shelves rattling around them. Hermione couldn’t remember where they were by now, but Harry, who had the lead, seemed to know his way. Looking over Ron’s shoulder, Hermione could see the floor around the pedestal cracking open, like the whole library was containing an earthquake.

They made it to the door at last and slammed the it shut behind them, but this time the spinning room didn’t move. With a loud crack, the door split in half, and Luna screamed. Whatever enchantment that caused this had spread to this room, too.

They stumbled to the exit, panicking, and fled the Department of Mysteries without looking back. Even as they rode the lift upward, they could still hear things crumbling and smashing downstairs. Thankfully, whatever curse Voldemort had used to protect the diadem was apparently contained to that floor, at least for now, because the further they got, the less destruction they could hear.

“Wait,” Harry said suddenly, and dashed out of the lift.

“Oi! What the fuck, mate!” Ron called after him, and Draco made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Before the lift clanged shut again Harry was back, blowing smoke off the tip of his wand and shoving back into the lift with them.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked, and Harry grinned.

“Just a fire I had to set in Umbridge’s office.”

 

\+    +    +

 

Harry was exhausted. Beyond exhausted. He was more tired than he had possibly ever been in his whole life. They had all walked together to the tent in absolute silence, Luna still gripping the tiara in one hand. Still quiet, they had dropped their disguises and coats at the door, all of them on the verge of collapse.

“Should we… destroy it?” Ron asked finally, looking at the horcrux.

“In the morning,” Harry answered. “That thing’s going to put up a fight. Let’s at least get some sleep first.”

Everyone seemed to wordlessly agree with this, and Luna placed the diadem on the fireplace mantle, yawning loudly. The sun was coming up now, and they all said goodnight, stretching and yawning as they left to their bedrooms.

 _Goodnight, Potter._ Malfoy spelled to him, collapsing onto the bed.

“Night, Malfoy.” Harry replied, and laid down without even changing into his pajamas.

Malfoy was snoring softly within seconds. Harry turned and pressed his face into the pillow, breathing deeply.

Wait. Something familiar.

With a jolt, he realized suddenly why he hadn’t recognized the smell of amortentia as soon as they’d entered the Love Chamber. His particular scent had changed. It still smelled of quidditch, of Hogwarts- but now it had changed to something new, too. The fresh laundry scent that lingered in this room. That, and…

Eucalyptus.

Harry groaned and threw one arm over his face. He wasn’t going to think about it.


	7. Luna and Rowena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some scary imagery and injuries again in this chapter! There are several mentions of Latin in this chapter, and I included translations in the end notes. ...And one extra warning for emotion I guess, I'm a huge sap and cried while writing this chapter. Sorry it took so long, enjoy!

Harry dreamt he was in the potions classroom. There were no windows, but even below ground he could hear the rain pouring outside, beating against the castle walls. Slughorn was pacing the front of the room, lecturing about proper ingredients, and had probably made a joke or two in Harry’s direction, but he wasn’t listening.

Draco was sitting beside him, sorting and counting leaves, beetle wings and liquid potion ingredients in glass phials. He kept talking to Harry, but Harry couldn’t hear anything he was saying.

“What was that?” Harry asked, trying to read Draco’s lips. Draco rolled his eyes and tried again. Harry shook his head. If only he could _hear,_ then he’d know-

“ _Sssseven times I have come for you, boy,”_ the horrible voice spoke, so loudly that it shook the room. It was just like in second year, when he’d heard the basilisk’s voice echo around the castle, but this was so much worse.

“ _You will not sssslip by me again,”_ it continued, and Harry was no longer in the dungeons, but standing inside the archway in the Department of Mysteries. The curtain fluttered around him like water, and in front of him stood The Grim, blocking the entire space between Harry and the way out.

One of its skeletal hands flung forward toward Harry, and the room began to crumble around them. Harry could not move. What would happen to him if the archway fell apart on top of him? Worse, what would happen when The Grim grabbed hold of him?

Just before the rotting hand touched his face, Harry bolted awake, breathing hard and covered in a cold sweat. He was still in the bedroom. Draco was in the bed, still snoring softly. Harry’s scar ached and throbbed. He wondered if Voldemort had heard about their late night excursion yet. If he hadn’t yet, he would soon, and when he did, there would be hell to pay.

Harry stood up and stretched, looking around him. He was still wearing the clothes he’d worn in the Ministry, ashes clinging to his shoulders. His invisibility cloak was still tied uncomfortably around his waist, where it had tangled around him as he slept. His regular robes had vanished, but he had given Ron the contents of his pockets when they disintegrated, including Mad-Eye’s eye and the book about Dumbledore. He would have to buy new robes as soon as he could, but for now he would have to change into something clean.

He crept to the coatrack and hung up his cloak, then to the bathroom with a change of clothes. He took a cold shower, rinsing off the clammy feeling his nightmare had given him. It wasn’t unusual for him to have nightmares, but this was new. This had nothing to do with Voldemort, it was his own fate that was haunting him.

When he returned to the bedroom in a soft shirt and pants, Draco Malfoy was still sleeping, curled in on himself, breathing slowly. Harry was forced to face the _other_ memories from last night- the space room, when Draco had saved his life. The love room, where Draco had fallen on top of him and Harry had _smelled him_ in the amortentia. And what was that supposed to mean? That he was attracted to him, romantically into him? Did it just mean he was attached to Draco, now that two of them were friends?

 _Love potion never smelled like Ron or Hermione to you,_ said a very unreasonable and meddlesome voice in Harry’s head, which he ignored.

Draco looked very peaceful this way, when he was sleeping. He was less harsh, his face blank and rested. The soft light from their magicked window was falling across his shoulders and the top of his head, casting a golden glow around him. Harry could still hear a faint rattle when Draco was breathing, the aftermath from that fateful first night and the knife he’d taken to the neck. The knife he’d taken for Harry.

Harry watched dust particles catch the light like fairies floating around his head, and it occurred to him very suddenly that he had stopped thinking of him as “Malfoy” and started thinking of him as just Draco. He wondered when that had happened.

A sound from the next room snapped Harry back into the present moment, and he turned away from Draco reluctantly and went to the kitchen.

“Oh, Harry, good afternoon!” Luna said, sitting at the bar with the Daily Prophet open in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

“Oh,” Harry said, too tired to articulate much more. The clock on the mantle read half past two in the afternoon. “Morning, Luna.”

She sipped her tea. “Would you like to read the paper?”

Appearing suddenly from the other bedroom with a huge yawn, Hermione answered first. “I’d like to take a look at that, Luna. How on earth did you get it?” She was limping.

“Oh, it was easy.” She shrugged. “Harry woke up some time ago and hung his invisibility cloak on the door. I put it on, here you are Harry,” she handed him the cloak, “and decided to head outside and see what had happened after we left the ministry. I stole a paper- they already know about it, and they’re already blaming you, Harry. So we’ll need to move the tent as soon as we can, obviously. And since we were in the area, I went by St.Mungo’s and got a few things.” She pulled a large bottle of Skele-Gro from her coat pocket and a golden vial of some kind of potion.

“Luna! Did anyone see you? How did you-“

“No, no, I was under the cloak. They have tons of this, no one will miss it. You need it for your leg. Draco needs the numbing potion for his throat. Oh, there you are! Take some of this!”

Draco had appeared now too, looking blearily over Harry’s shoulder at the foreign bottle. Hermione was already three pages in to the Daily Prophet.

“Sorry I couldn’t find something to actually heal you,” Luna admitted, “I didn’t want to risk getting caught, I stayed close to the main doors.”

Draco looked at her for a moment with wide eyes, and then flung his arms around her neck.

Luna giggled. “You’re welcome!” She laughed as Draco kissed her on the cheek with a loud _smack._ Harry looked pointedly at the floor.

Ron, yawning loudly, stretched his arms above his head. “That was a good idea, Luna,” he said sleepily, plopping down onto the sofa.

“I’ve been inspired today,” Luna smiled and went back to sipping her tea.

“Harry! You better come look at this!” Hermione called, panic in her voice, and Harry turned to her, realizing at once what the headline said.

_UNDESIRABLES BREAK INTO MINISTRY OF MAGIC, DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES DESTROYED_

Hermione handed him the paper and Harry continued reading.

_This morning when Unspeakable Thorfinn Rowle entered the Ministry early to head to his office in the Department of Mysteries, he discovered quite the scene. In an exclusive interview with a Prophet intern, he described the destruction as “total, complete annihilation,” and “a loss of ministry resources we may never recover.” All around downtown London at about 4:30am, light tremors could be felt along the streets. What was suspected, at the time, to be an earthquake, rattling the windows of London residents and waking patients in St.Mungo’s Hospital. What we didn’t know was that beneath our feet, a curse of unknown origin had been unleashed upon the Ministry, completely destroying an entire floor, as well as causing significant damages to all the others._

_The Department of Mysteries has been completely destroyed, along with most of the courtrooms and offices along the same floor. All other floors of the Ministry received significant damage. Cursebreakers and members of the Department of Magical Construction are hard at work at the Ministry today to fully assess how much damage has been done. Trained Healers are stationed there as well, to provide care to any ministry workers who were injured on their way to work. (So far, both the floo entrances in the main atrium and the visitor entrance to the ministry are beginning to crumble, so this reporter advises our ministry workers to take a well-earned day off.)  Aside from two unnamed guards who were stationed at the front of the department, who are now presumed kidnapped or dead, there have been no casualties._

“Oh, the Malfoys made it out all right, then,” Harry sighed, relieved, and Hermione pointed him further down in the article, where Harry saw his own name.

_Known Undesirable Number One, Harry Potter, is suspected as the culprit, though the Ministry is sure he couldn’t have acted alone. Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Head of the Muggleborn Registration Committee, confirmed that her office was set ablaze in what was clearly an attempted act of violence against her. Dolores also claimed that Harry Potter left a threatening message for her. We at the prophet spoke with Umbridge as well as the Minister himself about the lasting damage this attack will have caused..._

Harry stopped reading. “Luna’s right, we better get out of here.”

Hermione took the paper and handed it to Draco, frowning. “This building should be pretty safe for now, and I’m sure our charms will hold, but…” she trailed off, looking worriedly toward the mantle and then back at Harry. “We should probably leave as soon as the ministry closes for the night. I should have known this would happen, we could have had the tent ready to go and just apparated right out from there.”

“Don’t worry about that now, Hermione,” Luna said, still looking oddly comfortable, “We have a few hours to pack everything up and we’ll be on our way, not a problem.”

“But what about the horcrux?” Ron interjected, standing up. It was still sitting on the mantle, gleaming in the morning light.

“We can’t destroy it here,” Harry sighed, “What if it turns out it causes some massive earthquake like the curse in the ministry? It’ll lead them right to us.”

“Better not to take the risk,” Luna shrugged. “Besides, Hermione should be resting. Skele-Grow works best when you’re not trying to _use_ your broken bone, you know.” she looked pointedly at Hermione, who was leaning on the counter to keep pressure off her injured leg.

“Come on, ‘Mione.” Ron said gently, guiding her to the couch. He unscrewed the bottle and handed it to her. She had the kind of belligerent look on her face that Harry knew meant she appreciated it, but didn’t feel like she needed to be taken care of.

“Get some water ready,” Harry grinned. “That stuff is _disgusting._ ”

Hermione grimaced and took a wary sip. “Ugh,” she said.

 _Rowle is a Death Eater._ Draco’s golden script interrupted them. _He’s listed in this article as an Unspeakable._

“That’s not a surprise,” said Ron bitterly, “Isn’t everyone at the Ministry these days a Death Eater?”

“Probably,” Harry agreed sourly. Draco frowned and went back to his reading.

Harry expected Hermione to chime in about corruption in government, but when he looked over, she was passed out on the couch, mouth open slightly, breathing loudly.

Ron was reading the back of the Skele-Grow bottle. “That is a side effect, apparently.” he looked at her fondly.

 _Umbridge and Rowle._ Draco spelled again. _And they know we broke into the Department of Mysteries. How long do you think we have?_ He was looking intently at Harry.

“Not long,” Harry sighed. “But when he finds out, I’m sure I’ll know.”

+   +   +

The rest of the day passed by quickly. They packed up, took watch, and Hermione slept. At around ten that night, after the local restaurants closed their doors and people had gone home to rest before their next morning at work, they were ready to go. They woke Hermione, and Ron apparated them to the middle of a forest Harry didn’t recognize.

“Some dead relative of my mum’s lived in that cabin,” he explained as they set up the tent, pointing to a rotting shack they could see through the trees. “We came here once when I was really young. Camping, I think. I just remember Mum giving up before the first night because the roof leaked so bad. Even our old tent was better than that place.”

Hermione yawned and put up the last of their wards, creating the barrier that kept them essentially invisible. The Skele-Grow was working, Harry could even _hear_ it working at times, as horrible as that was, but it also kept her tired, and they all wished her an early goodnight.

Harry sat down to take first watch, Luna followed Hermione inside, and Ron and Draco started piling logs for a fire. It was getting too cold to sit out on watch without one now.

Harry watched the two of them, noticing how the warm light of the fire reflected across Draco’s hair and cast shadows under his cheekbones, and then shoving down the feeling in his chest. He wasn’t going to think about it. If he ignored it long enough, maybe it would go away. He stared into the trees instead. And then-

“Hey!” He whispered, panicked. Draco and Ron turned to look at him. “Look! Over there!”

Less than ten feet from the edge of their barrier, there were three figures walking past.

“Shit,” Ron hissed, and he and Draco scrambled backwards toward Harry.

The three of them listened with bated breath as the figures stopped and looked around.

“Think that cabin over there is safe enough?” said a very familiar voice.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Dean Thomas, with two people they didn’t know, was out here camping in the woods right next to them. Harry couldn’t help himself. He ran towards the barrier, stopping just close enough so he could see Dean’s face, hear their conversation clearer.

He looked ragged, absolutely worn out. Like Harry, he needed a haircut, and he had deep bruises under his eyes. He carried a large rucksack, with a sleeping bag tied across the top. Harry’s chest ached. He knew without any doubt what was happening- the Muggle-Born Registration Committee. They would come after anyone who couldn’t prove their magical parentage. Dean was on the run.

Dean and the two men didn’t talk much. Harry, now with Ron right beside him, watched as they built a fire and set up a ragged muggle tent. They cooked a meager meal of fish on the fire, and drank tea.

Then they turned on a radio, and Harry heard another familiar voice.

“Goooooooood evening, faithful listeners!” said Lee Jordan. “It’s me again, your host, River, and with me is my lovely pal Rapier. This is your resistance radio, Potterwatch!”

Harry froze. Ron was gaping at him. Draco, who had run up beside them as soon as he’d heard Lee’s voice, had a tight grip on Harry’s shoulder.

“Thank you, River!” answered yet another familiar voice.

“Fred!” Ron gasped. Harry shushed him.

“As usual here on Potterwatch,” Fred’s voice continued, “We’re here to update all of you on the continued fight against dark forces, followers of you-know-who, and the disgusting transformation of the Ministry.”

Lee butted in. “We also have a _very_ special guest tonight, here to update us on the scary situation happening down at Hogwarts! This is definitely the year to homeschool your kids, folks.”

“That’s right!” Fred answered. “But first, news on the latest possible Boy-Who-Lived action. As you all may have read in the Daily Prophet this morning, Harry Potter, or so they say, spent last night breaking into the Ministry and absolutely destroying the Department of Mysteries, as well as no less than _ten_ of the old courtrooms.”

“I for one hope it’s true,” Lee said, laughing. “After the mess they’ve been causing, it’s what they deserve! Not to mention head of the Muggle-Born Registration Committee, Umbridge, had her office ransacked. The courtroom they use was destroyed too!”

“Good ol’ Harry,” Fred agreed, “he did always hate that hag. If you’re out there, Mr. Potter, cheers to that!” The two of them laughed.

Harry was grinning so widely his cheeks had started to hurt.

“According to our Ministry sources,” Lee continued, “Muggle-Born trials have been postponed until they can repair the damage. If you were scheduled for this week’s trials, we wish you the best of luck. _Please_ don’t stick around, folks, even if you have proof of parentage, sometimes that isn’t enough for the regime we live in.”

“Fucking right.” Dean muttered, and one of the two men with him rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“And speaking to those on the run,” Fred said in a somber voice, “We hope you’re staying safe and getting as far away from this hellhole as possible. At the end of the broadcast, as usual, we’ll announce the addresses of known safe places for those in need. These places are not accessible by floo, apparition or broom unless you have the weekly password, and are warded against dark magic doers more than any place I’ve ever seen in my life. I couldn’t even bring in any of my experimental new joke products!”

“Yikes!” Lee laughed, “Don’t give away business practice, Rapier!”

“And now,” Fred perked up considerably, “our special guest, Stallion!”

“Ooh, Stallion, I love that!” said another voice, and Harry could feel his heart drop to his stomach. It was Ginny.

Harry hadn’t noticed Draco had left, but now he was back, Luna and Hermione in tow.

“Ginny,” Harry said to them as if that alone was an explanation, and Luna shoved her way past him and dropped to her knees right at the barrier. She looked like she’d have her face pressed against it if she was physically able.

“Things at Hogwarts are pretty shite right now, obviously,” Ginny said, and Harry knew she was rolling her eyes, “but luckily we’ve got a great gang of us on the resistance crew. A friend and I, we’ve been trying to gather everyone we could and keep them out of the dorms.”

“Neville,” Luna said quietly. She was probably right.

Ginny’s voice continued. “The Carrows are at the point where they do routine bed checks, which is a _total_ breach of privacy as well as _insane and super fucked up!_ ”

“Whoa there Stallion, we’ve probably got some younger listeners,” Lee laughed.

“Right, uh, super _messed_ up,” Ginny laughed. “Anyway, he and I have basically set up a secret camp within Hogwarts grounds to keep anyone who feels like they’re in danger. We’ve sent home first years from every house. They made Hogwarts compulsory now, I know, but the stuff they’re teaching is downright horrible. A lot of kids didn’t come back after the most recent Hogsmeade weekend. We snuck a lot of younger ones out there to meet their parents, make a break for it.”

“What kinds of things have they been teaching, for our listeners who haven’t talked to anyone at Hogwarts?”

“Oh, dark magic. Loads of it. They’re training students to use the unforgivables _on other students._ They’ve got required dueling classes now, and they encourage some really nasty hexes. Muggle Studies is out, of course. Defense is not Defense anymore, just Dark Arts. The weird kicker is the History class, though. They banned Binns, which normally we’d all love, but in this case they’ve got some Ministry person teaching us complete lies. We all think he’s imperiused. Talking about how you-know-who’s takeover the first time was so wonderful, only disturbed muggles were killed, the sanctity of pure blood, all that. It’s crazy. I never in my life thought I’d have to have the Sacred Twenty-Eight family trees memorized, but we’ve got a test on that next week.”

“Disgusting,” Fred sighed. “We related to anyone horrible in there?”

“Of course we are,” Ginny laughed, “but we’re all blood traitors so they kicked us out forever ago! It’s more like the Sacred Ten now.”

The three of them laughed, but Harry was still stuck on Hogwarts. He’d been missing it there so badly, and now he felt so much worse. He should be there, helping defend their home, their friends. Ginny was practically leading a new DA, and here he was, only one horcrux down, living in a luxury tent. He didn’t have to face Death Eaters _every day,_ He didn’t have to do battle just to go to class. He felt guilt start to settle down in his stomach like a sickness.

Harry listened back in to the radio just in time to hear the end of a long list of names.

“...and the O’Harras, a muggle family of five, have been reported missing. We will keep all of the affected families and resistance fighters in our thoughts tonight.”

“Thank you, Rapier.” Lee sighed sadly. “That concludes tonight’s Potterwatch. We’re not sure when we’ll be able to broadcast again, but when we do, the next password will be _Unity._ Keep twiddling those dials, listeners. As always, keep each other safe. Keep Faith. Goodnight.” Lee’s voice cut off with a crackle of static, and then the station returned to a muggle broadcast.

“...Rock 105.7, playing the best of the 70’s, 80’s and today!” called an announcer's voice, and Dean Thomas, who Harry was aching to go speak to, turned off the radio. The three travelers sat in silence, with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna and Draco all watching them from behind their barrier.

There was a long, somber moment of silence before either group got up to move.

The five of them trouped back to the tent, all of them feeling a mixture of homesickness and new hope brought on by seeing Dean and hearing Lee, Fred, and Ginny again. Ron kept laughing softly to himself, clearly overjoyed to have heard from his brother and sister. Luna and Hermione and Draco were all smiling at each other. Harry watched as Dean and his two companions decided to risk camping out in the cabin that night, if only to feel a bit safer with a roof over their heads. He sat back down at the front of the tent to begin his watch as everyone else headed to bed.

He could still hear Ginny’s voice spinning around in his head, saying “Things at Hogwarts are pretty shite right now, obviously,” while the guilt ate him alive from the inside.

 

+    +    +

 

What felt like an eternity later, he heard the snap of a twig coming from behind him, and launched from his chair, reaching for his wand. The night- or possibly early morning- was pitch black. The fire had gone out a long time ago- he realized only now he should have kept it going- and now a thick fog encircled their camp.

Chest heaving, he listened for another sound, and realized there were footsteps coming from around the back of the tent. Someone was _inside the barrier._

“Lumos,” he hissed, and his wand cast a brilliant light around him, catching on Luna’s blonde hair in the dark. Harry jumped- he had expected something hostile.

“Harry, I’m sorry, did I startle you?” Luna asked innocently, walking toward him. She had a few stray leaves in her hair.

“What the _fuck,_ Luna, how did you-”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she explained. “I just came back from a walk.”

“Came back? I never heard you leave.” Harry’s heart was still beating too fast. “How did you get out of the tent without me hearing you?”

Luna looked confused. “I walked out right behind you,” she said. “You didn’t hear the door open and close? You didn’t hear me walking around the tent?”

“No,” Harry replied. “I didn’t hear you until just now.”

“That’s odd,” Luna said, but she didn’t look anywhere near as concerned as Harry felt. “Would you like me to bring you some tea? You’ve still got half an hour before Ron comes to relieve you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry answered. Even after Luna sat with him drinking tea, he still felt like something wasn’t right. Had he really spaced out on watch that badly? Had he fallen asleep sitting up? Ron came to relieve him quickly afterwards, though, and Luna, who made him a cup of tea, too, elected to stay and keep him company. Maybe he was just being paranoid, after sitting alone in the dark worrying for so long. Either way, when Harry went to bed, he was still listening for footsteps.

 

+    +    +

 

In the morning, a light snow had fallen, but it looked like it would melt once the sun was high enough. Harry had slept fitfully. They’d all agreed that they would wait until Dean and his group left camp before they tried to kill the horcrux, and Harry was anxious for them to be on their way, despite wishing that he could go and speak to Dean. Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and when the anxiety crept up on him, he thought of Gryffindor’s sword. He had taken it out of the beaded bag and laid it out in the bedroom that he and Draco shared, ready to destroy the diadem as soon as they were able.

Ron cooked breakfast, and Hermione, who was feeling much better now that the Skele-Grow had taken effect while she slept, was on watch. Now that they were all awake, Harry took out Mad-Eye’s eye and the book about Dumbledore, which he showed to everyone. They took turns reading the novel while they weren’t on watch, and that afternoon they buried the eye behind their tent, saying a few somber words in Mad-Eye’s memory.

Reading Rita’s words, however, had been a mistake. Harry’s bad mood kept getting worse the more he read, and he was starting to get antsy about the horcrux once the sun had set and Dean’s group hadn’t left the cabin. Every time he took watch, his head swirled with thoughts of Dumbledore and how much he hadn’t known. He thought of the horcruxes and worried about Hogwarts and shoved away thoughts of The Grim. All the while he watched, hoping to see Dean leave the campsite- his group seemed to be doing well. Several times Harry could smell them cooking or hear snatches of their conversation, but that made him nervous. Why weren’t they _leaving?_

“I didn’t think they would stay two nights,” he grumbled, more to himself than anyone else, entering the tent again after his watch.

“We are, aren’t we?” Luna said from across the room. She was too cheery.

“Well, yeah, I guess, but they don’t have a tent, or food. I thought they’d need to leave, at least toward the nearest river or whatever,” Harry replied. His scar was starting to burn.

“Maybe they’re all right living in the cabin for now. Maybe there was some food in there.” Luna supplied.

“If there’s food in there, it’s twenty years old,” Ron called from the front of the tent- he was cooking again, and Hermione was keeping him company, her nose buried in Rita’s awful book.

“Well you never know, I guess,” Luna shrugged and returned to her own book, an ancient tome called _Arcana Mente et Memoria._

It was another night of fitful sleep for Harry, and he woke up several times from dreams he couldn’t see or understand, but filled him with anxiety. He was sure that The Grim was lurking in the dark, that Voldemort knew by now that they’d stolen the diadem, that Ginny and the others were in danger at Hogwarts. He worried about the horcrux the most. So far though, there had been no reaction from Voldemort, no visions filled with his rage. Why wasn’t he reacting? Was Harry starting to lose his connection?

 _You doing okay?_ On the third time he woke up and put his glasses on that night, golden words were shimmering in front of him.

“Just nightmares.” Harry sighed.

He looked over at Draco, who was sitting up on the couch bed, looking intently at him.

 _You’re worried about you-know-who._ Draco spelled out, flicking his wand so the lamp on the bedside table flicked on. Harry was grateful. He’d dreamed about The Grim again.

“Yeah, it’s just- how does he not know? Usually I know as soon as he does,” Harry explained. “It’s been too long, he should know.”

 _They haven’t called him._ Draco supplied, not looking Harry in the face. He crossed the room and sat at the end of the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest. _He’s probably out doing something. Hasn’t read the papers. The Death Eaters won’t tell him the bad news until he sees them face to face. He’s one to kill the messenger, you know. None of them want to be the messenger._

“Maybe you’re right,” Harry said, shrugging.

 _You forget._ Draco said, resting his chin on his knees. _I would know if they called him. They definitely haven’t. Besides, they’re only supposed to call if they catch you._

“Oh- _ohh._ ” Harry gritted his teeth. Draco had the dark mark. He’d forgotten.

Draco scratched at the sleeve over his forearm as if the tattoo there was bothering him. Neither of them said anything.

“Sorry,” Harry sighed.

 _Don’t be,_ Draco spelled back, sighing. _Were you dreaming about him, then?_

“No,” Harry answered honestly. “Just regular weird stuff. Stress dreams, I guess. They didn’t make much sense.” He still hadn’t told Draco or Luna about seeing The Grim, which was tangled up in his nightmares, too. Draco only nodded.

“And why are you awake?” Harry asked.

 _Can’t sleep with that thing in here._ Draco answered, and then he looked toward the wall, as if he could see the horcrux through it.

“I know, I wanted to destroy it as soon as we got here, but-”

 _Not that. You can’t hear it?_ Draco looked worried.

“Hear what?” Harry asked.

 _The horcrux. It makes noises. Gets louder at night. Luna could hear it at the Ministry, but I couldn’t. Now I can’t stop hearing it. Sounds like ticking. Like a heartbeat, but wrong. Sometimes it sounds like people whispering._ He shuddered.

“I haven’t heard anything,” Harry admitted, shifting closer so he could look in the same direction, straining to hear it.

 _It’s probably my own fault,_ Draco spelled bitterly, _this stupid mark on my arm may as well be a direct line to him, and so is that thing._

Harry looked at him. Draco was scratching at his sleeve again, looking disgusted.

“If it’s a connection to him that makes you hear things, I should be hearing it too,” Harry explained, and Draco looked up, meeting his eyes at last. “And Luna definitely doesn’t have one, so it must be something else. That’s how it was with the last one. It was harder on Ron than the rest of us.”

 _Really?_ Draco asked. _I wonder why that is. He doesn’t seem affected this time._

“Yeah, guess not,” Harry answered. He was hoping he would help Draco feel better. He had seen that moment of self-loathing and guilt in Draco’s face, and he had to do something about it. Anyone who had thrown themselves so easily into the fight _against_ Voldemort, who had saved Harry’s life so many times, didn’t deserve to feel that guilt.

 _At least that’s one thing I can’t blame myself for, then._ Draco reached across Harry to the nightstand and grabbed the bag of lozenges. When he popped one in his mouth, Harry could smell the eucalyptus and mint, and was forcibly reminded again of the love room in the Ministry. Reaching across Harry again to put the bag back, Draco’s sleeve shifted, and Harry saw the barest hint of the tattoo on his arm.

“Can I see it?” Harry asked, trying his best to sound casual.

Draco stopped moving, and his eyes locked with Harry’s. He sat up slowly.

 _Why do you want to see it?_ Draco spelled out.

“I dunno.” Harry shrugged. “Why does everyone wanna see my scar?”

A fascination churned in Harry’s stomach with something a little bit like revulsion. He wasn’t sure if this was even going to work. He watched as Draco searched his face, and then slowly pulled up his left sleeve.

There it was. The dark mark. It was a vivid black, the snake coiling in and around the skull. Harry’s chest felt heavy- he felt as if he needed to cover it up, to find some way to peel it from Draco’s skin. It looked the way a curse felt. It was evil magic, and it wasn’t a part of Draco, it was a shackle.

_Horrible, isn’t it?_

“Eh,” Harry grinned. “Not as ugly as this,” he pointed to the lightning scar on his forehead.

 _You’re right._ Draco’s lips curled upward in the barest hint of a smile. _What was I thinking? I have it easy._

“Of course you do,” Harry laughed. Draco rolled his eyes, still biting down a smile. It was even better than Harry had bargained for.

“So you feel it then? When he calls?” Harry asked. It was easier to talk about it now. Draco didn’t look like he minded anymore, leaning close into Harry’s space as he watched the mark, too. Their foreheads were almost touching, and Harry felt like it was casual, easy even.

 _Yeah. Nothing you can do. Just burns for a few hours until it fades away._ Draco shrugged.

“And has he called?”

_Not since I’ve been with you. He’s out doing something. Recruiting, maybe. I don’t know, but he was always traveling somewhere when he was living in the manor._

“Maybe we’re safer than I thought, then,” Harry said, “Maybe we can kill this one before he knows we’re looking for them. He still doesn’t know we killed the last one.”

 _Good,_ Draco said. He paused. _I wish I couldn’t hear it._

“We’ll destroy it,” Harry said. “It’ll only be a day or so more, at most.” He put a comforting hand on Draco’s shoulder. Was he imagining it, or did Draco lean into him, just a little? He was so close that Harry could smell the cough drops on his breath, feel the warmth radiating from his body. They were so very close to each other.

Draco looked at him, and his eyes caught Harry’s. In the love room, he’d been bathed in pink light, but here, Harry could clearly see the barest hint of a blush creeping up on him, the deep shades of color in his eyes. Harry searched Draco’s face like he had never seen it before, but kept looking back at his lips, his eyes.

How long had he been staring? Then Harry asked himself an even more important question, as his heart hammered like a drum that he was sure the entire tent could hear. _How long had he thought Draco was attractive?_

There was a knock on their bedroom door, and both of them jumped.

 _What the fuck, it’s nearly three o’clock,_ Malfoy spelled out, and Harry got up to open the door, pulling his hand at last from Draco’s shoulder.

“Oh good, you’re both awake!” Luna beamed up at him. Even in the dark hallway, Harry could tell she looked pale.

“Uh, why are _you_ awake, Luna?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes. She barged into the room.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged. “I’m just full of energy, and this book has been so interesting,” she explained. “Besides, I have to go on watch in an hour, what’s the point of going to bed now?”

 _An hour of sleep, maybe?_ Draco looked vaguely annoyed, to Harry’s surprise.

Luna ignored him, dropping her giant book on the floor by the bed and sitting down beside it. “I’ve been doing a lot of research on the whole occlumency issue,” she explained brightly, “And I think I’ve got a breakthrough for you!”

“Uh, occlumency? Why?” Harry asked. To be completely honest, he’d forgotten about their occlumency practice. He’d been so much more preoccupied with breaking into the Ministry and destroying the horcrux that he hadn’t even thought about it in days.

“Well, I found this book when we were in the department of mysteries, and it’s about the mysteries of the mind, and I thought it would be useful.” she explained quickly, flipping through the ancient book to find her page.

 _You stole that book?_ Draco asked, sliding off the bed to sit beside her. _Why?_

“We’re going to have to find more horcruxes, aren’t we? Wouldn’t it be easier if we, or, if Harry, could read you-know-who’s thoughts and just find out where they were? I know you’ve been worried he’ll find out, Harry. Wouldn’t you feel safer if you had the ability to keep your mind closed off from him? Keep him from seeing what you’re planning?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry sighed, “But the thing is, Luna, we really tried. I just can’t do it.”

Luna smiled up at him. “Trust me, you haven’t tried this.” She really looked like she needed some rest- he could see now that she was in the light that she had deep bags under her eyes.

As if Draco was thinking along the same lines, he spelled out, _Luna. When was the last time you slept?_

“I’ve slept plenty,” she said, waving him off and quickly moving back to her original topic. “So, this book is called Unraveling the Mysteries of Mind and Memory. It’s in Latin, so I’ve had to translate to read most of it, but there’s a whole section on people who have mental blocks. According to this, if you’ve experienced any kind of trauma- either magical, emotional or physical -early on in life, it can cause what they call a barrier in your mind. It’s the mind’s way of protecting itself from those traumatic memories, but it can affect the way you use mental-based magic. Now all magic uses mental power, of course, but a lot of it is emotional, too. For instance, a lot of spells you have to _mean them_ for them to work, right? Well in the case of occlumency and legilimency, it’s almost entirely mental based. Your mind has to be as open as it can be, you have to have nothing standing in the way between you and all your mental capacity. If I’m right, this is why you struggle so much with occlumency, Harry. Your own mind is keeping you from it.”

“So you’re saying I’m traumatized and won’t be able to open my mind?” Harry asked, already feeling bitter.

“Not at all,” Luna said kindly. “You will be able to. You just need some extra help. Besides, after all you’ve been through, it’s no surprise your mind put up barriers. Even if you’d had a painless life, surviving the killing curse as a baby was probably enough to give you a significant mental block.”

“How do we fix it, then?” Harry asked, feeling a little better. After Snape’s lessons, he’d always sort of felt that he was just bad at occlumency in a way that couldn’t improve, but if he could find an easier way around it, maybe he wasn’t bad at it after all.

“It’s very complicated magic,” Luna explained, because of course it was. “We’ll need to use almost all of our potion ingredients, we need a talented legilimens to help you, and you’ll have to do a lot of meditation. Essentially, what we do is create a connection between you and another person. With this connection, the legilimens can go into your mind and help you find the mental block. Once you’re aware of what caused it, you can work on taking it down yourself. It sounds a bit like using a pensieve, without the bowl. I think it will be fun!” she was beaming up at him.

“Well,” Harry shrugged, “If you think we can do it, I’m in.”

“Perfect!” Luna smiled even wider. “I can do the supervising and the potion brewing, Draco, would you be the legilimens?”

Draco nodded. _Obviously._ He said in golden script.

“Good! I knew you would!” Luna took Draco’s hand in hers. He had taken the book from her lap and was scanning the pages, his eyes narrowed.

“Since when can you read Latin?” Harry asked.

 _Since I learned to read English, Potter,_ he spelled without looking up. _Hogwarts is really supposed to be teaching these things, you know._ He was smiling down at the page, though, and this gave Harry a little hope for their new mission. _This really was a brilliant idea, Luna._ Draco complimented, and Luna bumped her shoulder with his, grinning.

“I’ve just been inspired lately,” she shrugged, standing up. “I’m going to go ahead and get started on that potion! We’ve got most of that in the pantry, don’t we?”

 _Yes,_ Draco answered, _but go take a nap before your watch instead. You look terrible._

“I look great,” she called, already leaving their room, “And don’t tell me what to do!”

Draco rolled his eyes and looked back up at Harry. _Ready to try this occlumency stuff again?_ He asked.

“Sure,” he grinned, “If you learn how to be a better teacher before we start.”

Draco threw the book at him.

 

+    +    +

 

Their potion needed to boil for a full fourteen hours, with some counter-clockwise stirring every two hours, so in the end, despite worrying for her sleep schedule, Harry was glad Luna had started it at three in the morning. All that day, after she had filled in Ron and Hermione on her plan, Luna rushed about, switching between taking care of the potion and helping Harry start on his meditation exercises.

Harry had a hard time thinking of nothing, just as he had in fifth year. Shutting his mind down was just something he didn’t think he could do, but in fifth year, he hadn’t had this much help. Hermione, who had been enthralled with Luna’s idea despite feeling some kind of transferred guilt that she’d stolen the book, told Harry she’d learned to meditate that summer before she’d left her parents.

“I wish I’d thought about it in relation to occlumency, I’d just been so busy with the horcrux plans,” she’d sighed. “I’m sorry Harry.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry told her. In truth, he probably wouldn’t have thought meditation would help at all if it wasn’t part of this big spell, because meditation was hard, annoying, and almost impossible to focus on. Any time he managed to stop thinking about anything, he’d either start falling asleep or remember something he needed to be doing. It just felt like he was wasting his time, sitting down doing nothing, but Luna insisted he needed to practice before they did the real thing.

At about noon, when Draco was on watch and everyone else was preparing for the upcoming ceremony, Dean and his group packed up and left. Draco ran back into the tent immediately to let them know, and Ron was determined that they should take the horcrux outside and kill it as soon as they were out of hearing range. Harry agreed, but Luna stubbornly talked them down, reminding them that their potion would be done in just a few hours and that everyone involved needed to be totally focused, not thinking about a horcrux or injured by it. Hermione even offered to go out with Ron into the woods alone and destroy it while Harry, Draco and Luna stayed inside to get ready. Harry couldn’t stand to let them go alone, though, so after a long discussion where Luna grew very impatient with all of them, they all finally agreed to wait until the mind magic was done before they went about killing a horcrux.

Finally, at five in the afternoon, their potion was ready. It was a shimmering mix of purples and blues, filling the tent with a musky silver steam. Luna poured a flask for Harry and another for Draco, and brought the two of them to the center of the sitting room, where she had marked the floor with chalk where they should sit.

“Now, this is old magic,” Luna explained, “So it’s a little different than what we’re used to. Hermione’s checking my pronunciation and even if the potion isn’t perfect, it won’t do anything to you, it just won’t work for our purpose, so we should be fine. Ready?”

“Ready,” Harry replied. Draco nodded.

The three of them sat cross-legged in a triangle, Harry and Draco facing each other directly and Luna flipping through her book to the right page. Ron and Hermione sat on the couch behind them, with the tent door open so that they’d hear if anyone approached them. Slowly Harry and Draco did as Luna had instructed them, laying their palms face up on the floor, their fingers barely touching. Luna waved her wand in a figure-eight shape over their hands, chanting a long, slow spell in Latin. At her signal, Harry took one of Draco’s hands in his, and both of them closed their eyes. In their free hands, they held their wands aloft. After a moment more, Luna whispered something, and Harry could hear footsteps as Ron and Hermione walked over, holding out the flasks so that Harry and Draco could drink, their own hands occupied. The potion tasted like metal and was uncomfortably cold, despite being lifted from a boiling cauldron only a few minutes before.

“Now,” Luna whispered, finally finishing her chant. “The connection should be starting soon. Make sure to focus, try to meditate like we were showing you, Harry. You’ll have to lean forward, both of you.”

They did as they were told. Harry knew what was next- they had to synchronize their breathing. Harry leaned forward until he could feel Draco’s hair brush against his forehead. As Luna quietly counted it out for them, they breathed in, slow and steady. So close, Harry could feel Draco’s breath rush against his cheek, and it kept him in time. Luna counted to four- inhale. She counted to four again- exhale. Harry focused on the steady heartbeat he could feel, the tips of his fingers brushing the pulse in Draco’s wrist. Over and over, Luna counted, until they’d become perfectly synchronized.

“On your next breath out,” Luna instructed, and Harry heard her stand up as quietly as she could, stepping back from the two of them.

Harry lowered his wand so that it pointed toward Draco, keeping his eyes closed.

At the same time, they both spoke. “Legilimens.”

Harry’s brief shock at hearing Draco’s raspy, pained voice for the first time since they’d left the manor was whisked away as, at once, he realized their spell had worked. Harry was no longer on the floor in their tent. When he opened his eyes, he was standing in an endless dark void, with only Draco beside him in the nothingness. They were wearing, oddly enough, their Hogwarts Quidditch robes, and though they were no longer holding hands, there was a thin golden chain that bound Harry’s wrist to Draco’s.

“Where are we?” Harry asked, looking at Draco. He was clean cut with his hair slicked back, and the scar on his neck had vanished, as if time had reversed and they were at Hogwarts again.

“You can’t see it?” Draco asked, looking at Harry, who’s heart fluttered. Hearing Draco’s voice, after all this time, was strange and wonderful. Even if it was only in his head, he’d missed hearing that familiar drawl all the same.

“No, it just looks like dark to me,” Harry shrugged. “I can only see you.”

“Hmm,” Draco said, looking around. “Take my hand again.”

Harry took Draco’s hand in his and tried not to read too much into it. As soon as he laced his fingers with Draco’s, the darkness began to lift like a curtain, and Harry could see they were in a wide field of grass. There was a stiff breeze blowing, and the grass rippled like waves on the sea, reaching up to their knees. The sky was a deep purple, cloudless and filled with shining yellow stars.

“Can you see it now?” Draco asked, looking back at him.

“Yeah. Is it a field for you?” Harry was mesmerized by the sheer number of stars.

“Yes. We’re in your mind, I think. We should look for the block.”

“Okay,” Harry replied. He felt oddly safe here with Draco’s hand in his. “How do we find it?”

“We walk.” Draco said, and he turned, pulling Harry along with him.

They walked in silence, moving faster than they should logically be moving along the landscape. The purple sky remained the same, but the field changed very quickly around them. Trees began to spring from the ground, but they only walked through the forest for a second before it became a beach. The beach became the sea, which they walked across into another field, which became mountains, and the mountains gave way to more forests. Harry was too in awe to speak. He’d expected memories, not this- and just as he thought that, the forest started to change around him again.

“Wait!” Harry exclaimed, realization striking him at once. “This is the forbidden forest! At Hogwarts!” The purple sky had thrown him off. They were in a memory after all.

“Oh, it is, isn’t it?” Draco asked, no longer striding ahead. “Do you feel anything?”

“Should I be feeling anything?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know. I feel something… that way.” Draco pointed in the direction they had been walking toward.

“You’re the legilimens. Maybe it’s supposed to be you leading.” Harry suggested. Draco seemed to take this as his answer, and gripping Harry’s hand, tugged him along. As they walked, Harry watched the chain around their wrists tighten and then elongate, wrapping around their hands now, too. The Forbidden Forest was stretching farther than it should, and now they were scaling a mountain.

“So,” Draco said, still walking, “It’s your mind, do you know why we’re in Quidditch robes?” he looked over his shoulder at Harry, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably just because it’s you and me,” Harry guessed. “If it had been Hermione we’d probably be in the library in our robes. If it had been Ron we’d probably be in casual clothes at his house. I don’t know.” Harry shrugged.

“Is _that_ all you think of me? Your Quidditch rival?” Draco sneered.

“Of course not,” Harry said at once. He was almost embarrassed at the obviously caring tone in his own voice. He couldn’t be anything but honest here, he realized. “Quidditch is just something I associate with you, I guess. I joined because of you, remember?”

“I remember,” Draco laughed. It sounded wonderful. “I was _so_ jealous. I begged Snape to let me join the Slytherin team early like you had, but he wouldn’t let me.”

“Well Gryffindor was out a seeker, they needed a replacement. That’s all.”

“Yeah, and if you had been anyone else but Harry bloody Potter, they wouldn’t have let a first year on the team.” he grinned over his shoulder at Harry, and then promptly tripped over something in front of him. “ _Ooof!_ ”

There was a child standing over Draco, laughing. Harry helped Draco up, and realized suddenly that it wasn’t just any child- it was him. A little Harry Potter, who looked about eleven, wearing his first-year robes and clutching Neville’s remembrall.

Draco brushed some imaginary dirt from his robes and frowned at the boy. “Any chance you know where the mental block is?” he asked little Harry, looking sour. The boy only pointed the way they were already going and, still laughing, disappeared in the other direction.

“What the fuck,” Harry said, watching him leave. Draco tugged him further, and then the forest began to open up, and they could see Hogwarts far in the distance. The mountain sloped downward, but instead of getting to the Hogwarts grounds, they were walking into a suburb.

“Oh, not _here,_ ” Harry grimaced, because he knew before they even got close. This was Privet Drive.

“What’s wrong with here?” Draco asked, but before Harry could answer, things began to change. The houses around them grew larger as they walked until they were the size of skyscrapers, and by the time they reached number four, they were the size of mice compared to the front steps. Again they saw a little Harry, but this one was even younger.

He was sitting on the ground, but Harry knew that even if his little self stood up, he would only reach their waists. He couldn’t remember ever being so very small. The little Harry looked about five years old, and had a dark bruise forming around one eye.

Harry cringed. Had that been real? He didn’t remember getting punched at that age, but he didn’t doubt it happened.

“Hello,” Draco said kindly to the little one, dropping to one knee so that they were level with each other. “Are you okay?”

The little Harry wiped his tear-streaked face and replied sullenly, “No.”

“Can I help?” Draco asked, and Harry felt a blush rise to his cheeks. He didn’t know how he knew, but the little Harry couldn’t see him, he could only see Draco- and he trusted Draco completely. The little Harry stood up, and Draco wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. After he pulled away, clearly feeling better, the boy pointed toward the front door. He waved once at Draco, smiled just a little, and hopped down the steps away from him.

“You were so cute,” Draco said almost fondly, watching the little Harry walk away as the giant-size door opened in front of them. “Who hit you?” the look on his face was carefully constructed, but Harry could tell he was angry.

“I don’t remember,” Harry said honestly. “Probably my cousin Dudley.”

“We’ll discuss that later.” Draco said, all business, and pulled Harry with him through the door.

Number four, Privet Drive disappeared the moment they crossed the threshold. At once, they were walking down a hill at night, surrounded by a quaint little village that Harry didn’t recognize.

“Where are we?” Harry asked, confused.

Draco sighed. “This is Godric’s Hollow,” he explained quietly. “Where your parents were killed.”

Harry’s stomach tied itself in knots. He knew at once that Draco was right, and could feel sweat start to bead up on his forehead. Were they going to see his parents die? Were they going to have to face Voldemort, in Harry’s own mind?

“You’ve been here?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Draco answered, “Once I visited as a child. A lot of people did. They came to see the home of the boy who lived.”

They crossed the town square and headed toward a small house, the only one Harry could see with lights on inside. The front door swung open for them, and Draco guided him up a flight of stairs and toward another door.

There, at the end of the hallway, was a third, even younger Harry. He was a year old or less, Harry knew, because he didn’t even have a lightning scar. He was sitting up, babbling to himself just a little, looking to his left and right as if he was waiting for a parent to come pick him up at any second. Draco rushed forward so fast that the chain on Harry’s wrist pulled painfully. When he looked down, he realized it was now several times longer, twisting through both of their fingers, wrapping their hands and heading up their arms.

Draco was on his knees, his free hand cradling the toddler’s face, speaking to him in a soothing voice so quiet that Harry couldn’t hear what he was saying. After a moment, the child reached up toward him, and Draco scooped him up and held him. He rested his little head on Draco’s shoulder and yawned, closing his eyes.

“Potter,” Draco said breathlessly. Harry looked up and could see tears in Draco’s eyes. “I don’t have a free hand. Could you open the bedroom door, please?”

Harry had never heard Draco’s voice sound like this. He reached forward and turned the knob, pushing open the door. He saw nothing but darkness within, just like the darkness that they had started in. He turned to look at Draco, and realized that whatever was in the room, Draco could see it. He was crying now, his cheeks tear tracked and his hand, which was still chained to Harry’s, covering his mouth as he suppressed a sob.

“Can you- can you see that?” He said, his whisper muffled by his hand.

“No,” Harry answered. “What is it? All I see is the dark. Are you okay?”

Draco didn’t answer, only turned and looked at him with horror in his eyes. For a long moment, he said nothing, just looked at Harry as if he wanted nothing more in the world than to grab onto him and never let go. Harry wasn’t sure why he could tell that. He just knew.

“Good,” Draco said finally. “You shouldn’t see it. Get out of here.”

“ _What!?_ ” Harry shouted, and Draco wrenched his hand away from Harry’s so hard that the chain snapped.

“Open your eyes, Potter.” Draco said forcefully. “I’ve got your block.” he shoved Harry, and in the shock, Harry flew backward, his eyes opening.

He was back on the floor in the tent. Draco was sitting across from him, his forehead leaned against Harry’s, their breathing still in sync. His eyes were closed, eyelids fluttering as if he was dreaming.

“What the _fuck!”_ Harry shouted, but he didn’t dare move and disturb Draco.

“What happened?” Hermione gasped, sinking to her knees beside him.

“He shoved me out,” Harry breathed, “he’s still in there, he found the block.”

“It’s fine,” Luna said, looking at Draco, “the legilimens is supposed to be the one to take care of it. If you try to see it alone, you could just end up making it stronger. In some cases, the trauma of having to face what caused your block for a second time makes it impossible to _ever_ rid yourself of it _,”_ she sighed.

“You could have told me that before all this,” Harry snapped.

“Well he didn’t need to shove you out,” Luna said. “He could have told you to wait.”

Harry grimaced. He wouldn’t have waited outside that dark room. He wouldn’t have let Draco go in alone.

“He’s shaking!” Ron exclaimed, and as he said it, Harry could feel a tremor rock through his own body at the same time Draco shivered. Running on pure instinct, Harry let go of Draco’s hands and grabbed his shoulders, realizing only now that their entire bodies were wrapped in a thin chain made of golden light. Draco collapsed against Harry’s shoulder at once and took a long, shuddering breath. Harry felt the chain disappear rather than saw it.

“Got it,” Draco said in a raspy, broken whisper, and then coughed, his chest rattling.

Harry pulled him into an awkwardly positioned hug. “You ass!” he said, “You kicked me out!”

“You would have fucked it up.” the very hoarse voice answered, and Draco grabbed his wand from the floor at once so he no longer had to speak out loud. Harry already missed being able to hear his voice, even if it had been only in his head.

“So?” he asked Draco, as Ron, Hermione and Luna all celebrated in relief, “What was in that room I couldn’t see, the mental block?”

 _Yes._ Draco spelled weakly. He was still resting his head against Harry’s shoulder, which was exactly where Harry wanted him.

“And what was it?” Harry asked, careful to speak low so the others couldn’t hear.

 _Your mother’s death._ Draco answered, and then he pulled Harry closer to him, holding him tightly for the briefest of seconds. Somehow, Harry had known that was what it would be, but it still hurt to hear.

As they untangled from each other and stood, Luna explained that now that they’d found the block and Harry was aware of it, it would be much easier for him to start working around it. Over time, he would be able to knock it down completely, but for now, having a mental connection with Draco would make it a thousand times easier to practice and improve in occlumency. Harry didn’t need her to tell him this- he could feel the difference. It was as if a blocked sinus he didn’t know he had was cleared, and he could breathe again. Something about just _knowing_ he could improve, he could face his own pain, strengthened him in a whole new way.

“How long does the connection last?” Ron asked.

Luna shrugged. “According to the book, it’ll last as long as they use it. It works like legilimency or occlumency does, though. It’s not a long-distance thing, and it will probably fade a little over time regardless.”

“Interesting,” Hermione said, looking between the two of them. Harry couldn’t _feel_ anything, but he had a feeling that if he cast legilimens again, he would be in Draco’s head with no resistance.

“This has been great,” Harry said, “but _now_ can we kill the horcrux?”

Everyone grinned. “Shut up and go to bed, you two look exhausted!” Luna laughed.

Harry didn’t have to be told twice. He was aching all the way down to his bones, surprised that an entirely mental excursion could physically take so much out of him. He and Draco headed off to the bedroom, and the both of them fell into dreamless, restful sleep.

 

+    +    +

 

When Harry woke up later that evening in time for his watch, it was already dark. He grabbed a sandwich from the kitchen and headed outside, where the fire was down to embers. Hermione was on watch, and smiled up at him when he came to relieve her.

“How are you? Feeling okay?” she asked as he sat down beside her.

“I’m fine.” He stretched and yawned. “Still pretty tired, though.”

“What was it like? The mind connection?” She looked concerned.

“It was _weird,”_ he answered at once, and he told her all about the landscapes in his mind, and the young Harrys, and the door he couldn’t see through.

“As soon as I heard that the block could be caused by trauma, I thought that would be it. I’m so sorry, Harry.” she sighed. “I was too harsh on you, before. I just thought you weren’t trying. I should have done more research-“

“It’s fine, Hermione. And to be fair, I wasn’t trying.” He smiled at her mischievously, and she rolled her eyes. “Besides, there was no way you would have found whatever it was Luna was reading in the Hogwarts library. That book looks like it’s a thousand years old.”

“I guess not,” Hermione said, worrying her bottom lip. “Do you mind if I stay out here with you for a while? That _thing_ gives me a headache.”

“Sure,” Harry shrugged. “The horcrux, you mean? Draco said it bothered him too.”

“It’s like it’s always making this faint sound I can barely hear,” she added, rubbing her temples. “Like a whistling tea pot, or a ringing in my ears. We’re killing it tonight, aren’t we?”

“If we don’t I’m going to lose my mind.” Harry answered. “I’ll get it in a little while and we can destroy it. Just wait till I finish my dinner. The noise thing is strange, though. I haven’t heard it.” Harry said, taking a bite of his sandwich, “But Draco said it whispered things. Luna heard it in the Ministry, I think. What?” He asked, because Hermione was smiling slyly at him.

“You called him Draco,” she smiled wider.

“Shut up,” Harry sulked.

“Don’t be cross, it’s nice that you’re friends!” She was giggling now. “It’s just- funny. It’s odd to hear you talk about him in that tone.”

“What _tone?”_ Harry grumbled.

“The same tone you use when you talk about anyone you care about.” Hermione laughed. “I mean, for years any time you said his name it was like you were spitting acid, and now-“

“I don’t _care_ about him,” Harry argued, knowing he was a terrible liar, and Hermione shook her head at him.

“You do, I know you do.” She smiled. “If you didn’t you wouldn’t have done all that with him today.” She paused for a long moment. "It’s odd, the transition from enemy to ally. We all already know him so well. It’s like… We get his sense of humor, we know what will hurt his feelings or make him feel better. We know what he likes and what offends him. We just know it from a totally different context.”

“I guess you’re right,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe the way he thought of Draco now was no different than what everyone else was feeling. He didn’t have anything more than some confused inner feelings about an enemy turned friend. It was normal. It was not romantic feelings, no matter what the amortentia had smelled like.

The two of them sat in a companionable silence for a long while, listening to the wind whistle through the trees and watching the fire die down into nothing.

Harry’s eyes unfocused and he got lost in his thoughts, mulling over everything he’d seen in his own mind with Draco. He didn’t hear the tent open behind him. Neither did Hermione. By the time they heard the tent close again, it was too late, and the figure behind them had vanished.

“What was that?” Hermione asked, standing up to look around the side of the tent.

“I didn’t see anything,” Harry admitted, and then lit his wand. Hermione did the same, and then called for Ron, her brows coming together.

Harry heard the crack of a final log splitting in the fire, and turned to find what he’d heard hadn’t been the fire at all.

Where the fire should have been, feet hovering several inches off the ground,  surrounded by mist, was Luna. Her hair flowed around her like a halo, catching the moonlight as if she was underwater. Her bulging eyes had rolled back, so that only the whites shined in the dark. Her face was blank and cold, her skin so pale it was almost blue. A trickle of blood was dripping down her forehead, the wound itself hidden beneath her bangs, and atop her head, like a hideous crown, was the horcrux.

Harry couldn’t move. Hermione screamed.

Ron rushed out of the tent, dragging a bleary-eyed Draco with him, who gasped and clutched at his heart when he saw Luna.

“What the fuck,” Ron shouted, “Luna!”

She didn’t even register the call. Her body began to rotate in midair, and the diadem produced a veil of what looked like smoke that covered her face. Luna’s mouth opened, but the voice that came from it wasn’t her own.

 _“IMMENSUM ID THESAURUS HOMINUS,_ ” the voice called, and it sounded deep and inhuman, layered over Luna’s lofty voice. “ _TE POTEST SALVUM FACERE ILLA AMPILIUS, COGNITIO DUCERE LIBIDINE NIGRE.”_ the voice cackled so hard that it looked like it hurt Luna’s jaw.

“It’s going to kill her,” Hermione cried, “We have to destroy it!”

“How are we supposed to get it off her!?” Ron shouted as the fire roared back to life and swirled around Luna like a cyclone. She was still laughing that inhuman laugh, and with a horrible _crack,_ one of her arms bent the wrong way.

Harry lost all sense of strategy and _lunged,_ tackling Luna in midair and knocking her to the ground. Fire surrounded him instantly, setting his arms ablaze as he struggled to reach the diadem. He could hear a woman and a man’s voice, each screaming in unison things he couldn’t hear.

With a rushing sound, Harry and Luna were engulfed by a wave of water, putting out the fire and then sinking away from them. Harry felt arms pulling him away from Luna, and looked up to see that Ron, Hermione, and Draco had all jumped in at once. Ron was pulling Harry backward, and Draco had Luna, who was thrashing and screaming in his arms.

Hermione had ripped the diadem from her head, and quite a bit of Luna’s hair was tangled around it. Without waiting for a signal from anyone, Hermione held her hand aloft, and Harry gasped as the sword of Gryffindor was suddenly in her grasp. In one swift motion, she brought the sword down on the tiara.

Luna screamed louder than ever, but now it was her own voice, and two wispy figures rose from the shattered diadem, twisting and writhing within each other. Harry recognized one immediately. Tom Riddle, barely older than the five of them, screaming and twisting in the air before he burst into ashes. Beside him, writhing and then bursting into ashes as well, was a woman with dark hair that Harry had never seen.

“ _Merlin,”_ Ron breathed from behind Harry. “Luna- oh _no.”_

Luna, her face dripping with blood and tears, was limp in Draco’s arms, both her legs twisting at odd angles and one arm jutting out. She had passed out.

“Oh, Luna!” Hermione shrieked, dropping the sword and rushing forward. “We’ve got to get her some help, oh my god, Ron, get the Skele-Grow!” she rolled up her sleeves. “Episkey!” she said, and Luna’s legs snapped back to an almost-normal angle.

Ron dropped Harry and sprinted into the tent, returning with several bottles, one of which was clearly the Skele-Grow. He tossed one to Harry. “For your burns,” he said quickly, turning to Hermione, Luna and Draco.

The bottle was essence of murtlap, which Harry dumped all along his arms. He stood up and rushed toward the others, where Ron and Hermione were working together to conjure a stretcher. Draco was extraordinarily pale, his hands shaking as he helped lift Luna’s limp form onto the stretcher.

“She- she-” he spluttered, his voice scratchy and barely audible as Harry rushed forward to catch him. Draco’s legs went limp, and Harry caught his weight.

“She’ll be okay,” Harry reassured him, and they walked into the tent together, where Ron and Hermione were tending to Luna. She was awake now, sobbing openly, and when she saw Harry and Draco enter the room, she wailed.

“ _Harry,”_ she cried, her blue eyes overflowing with tears, “Harry I’m _so sorry,_ it’s all my fault, she pulled me in and tricked me and she was so _brilliant,_ she was so wonderful and I was so _stupid,_ all I ever wanted was to find the diadem and finish my mother’s work and-” she was babbling now, sobbing so hard Harry couldn’t understand her. “I’m so sorry Harry, I’m sorry!”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Harry said, dropping to his knees beside her.

Ron and Hermione had laid her stretcher on the couch and Ron was bandaging her head while Hermione pulled out first aid potions and cast as many minor healing enchantments on her as she knew.

“It was the horcrux, Luna,” Harry said, smoothing her hair back from her face. “It’s not your fault, it was his. You-know-who. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He didn’t,” Luna sobbed, “It was me. I wanted to know her, and I knew he was in the diadem too, but I didn’t care, I thought I could handle it, just a little of it-”

“Her? Who?”

“ _Rowena_. Rowena Ravenclaw. Her diadem gives you inspiration… It worked. I was filled to bursting with so many ideas, but I couldn’t keep the dark magic out. I’m so sorry, I was so arrogant. It kept me awake, for days, and-”

“Luna.” Harry said. “You didn’t hurt anyone. It’s okay. The horcrux is destroyed. You’re okay. You need to rest.” The shame and guilt on her face was cuttingly familiar. He’d seen the same look on Ginny’s face in his second year.

“Thank you,” Luna said, addressing all of them. “For saving me. I’m… I’m so sorry. I kept Dean and his friends in the cabin, so we couldn’t destroy it. I brought the Skele-Grow so that you would be asleep for days, Hermione. I found the occlumency spell to keep you all distracted. I knew we needed to kill it, and I kept preventing it from happening because I was selfish.” At this, she choked up once more, and Draco reached over and wiped tears from her cheeks.

 _None of us blame you, Luna. It’s okay._ His golden script read. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

The five of them sat in silence for a very long time.

“Well,” Ron broke the silence at last, “Luna, you think you’re well enough that one of us can hold you while we apparate?”

“I… um, sure.” her voice was weak.

“Good.” Ron answered, standing up. “Everyone else, let’s start packing. Fuck this place. We’re going to Bill and Fleur’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin Translations:
> 
> Luna's book:  
> -Mysteries of Mind and Memory
> 
> What the horcrux said:  
> -wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure  
> -it's too late to save her now  
> -her lust for knowledge lead her to the dark
> 
> If any of these turn out to be wrong I apologize, I'm not a latin expert I just took a course in high school and tried my best, haha!


	8. Christmas at Shell Cottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, meant to get this out by the 25th! Happy Holidays, everyone! Check the end for notes on a certain scene. Also, I think this is my longest chapter ever?

Harry didn’t know what he expected Bill and Fleur’s house to look like, but it hadn’t been this. When they appeared on the beach, battered and broken and immediately soaked by the falling rain, Harry  _ knew _ he would love it there. Even over the sound of the rain and rolling thunder, Harry could hear the calming wash of waves on the shore. Together, the five of them walked towards a cottage up on the hill ahead. One side of the house faced a cliff that dropped directly into the sea, while the other side faced a sloping hill that lead onto the beach.

A light clicked on in the cottage- they’d probably had wards that went off when anyone got too close. Harry could see that the house had shells inlaid in the walls, and the chimney was built with water-worn stones. 

Ron knocked on the door when they approached.

“Who eez it?” Fleur’s voice came from inside, unmistakable but clearly worried to hear someone knocking at this hour of the night.

“It’s Ron,” Ron said, “And Harry and Hermione! We’ve got some others with us-”

He cut off as the door wrenched open, and there was Fleur, silvery hair blowing back from her face in the cold breeze. 

“ _ Ronald!”  _ she gasped, and Harry was struck by how much she sounded like Mrs. Weasley. “Wait- er, each of you can confirm-” Harry had forgotten it was Order policy to prove yourselves.

Ron interrupted. “Ronald Billius Weasley, I’m Bill’s youngest brother, I yelled at you once when I was fourteen, before the Yule Ball.” he was a bit red. She smiled and let him in, patting his shoulder warmly.

“Hermione Jean Granger,” Hermione recited, “I’m muggle born. I shared a room with you and Ginny Weasley once, two years ago, at Order headquarters.” Fleur, still smiling, ushered her in and pointed to the living room.

“We ‘ave blankets in ‘ere. Get warm, we lit zee fire!”

Harry cleared his throat. “Harry James Potter. We met at the Triwizard Tournament, at Hogwarts. You were mad because I was too young.” he smiled fondly at her.

Fleur wrapped him in a tight hug, beaming. “And I will never forget zat!” she said, pulling him inside.

“Er, Fleur, this is-”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy.” Draco interrupted in a very raspy and clearly self conscious mumble. “My father is a Death Eater. They kidnapped Luna Lovegood. She and I escaped the manor with the others when Potter was captured. I understand if you don’t trust me, but please-” here he stopped and coughed, “Excuse me, please let Luna within your wards. She’s injured.”

“He’s with me,” Harry said quickly, “I can vouch for him,” because Bill had suddenly appeared over Fleur’s shoulder, looking suspicious.

Luna broke the awkward silence. “I’m Luna,” she said gently, “I was at your wedding.”

“Yeah, I remember you,” Bill gave her a strained smile and she hobbled in. Harry caught her by the arm, because as soon as she crossed the threshold she looked like she was about to pass out. 

Fleur put an arm around her and helped her into the living room, where Harry heard her say “Ginevra ‘as told me  _ so  _ much about you, she was so worried!”

Harry and Bill stood next to each other at the door. Draco stood just over the threshold, shuddering in the rain, looking nervous.

“You say you can vouch for him, Harry?” Bill asked, his arms crossed.

“Yes,” Harry rushed, “He rescued us from Death Eaters, he’s been with us ever since. He saved my life, more than once.”

Bill looked only at Harry. Draco was staring at his own feet.

“Harry,” Bill said quietly, “Wasn’t he the one who was there when Dumbledore-”

“Yes.” Harry interrupted. “Dumbledore offered him protection, if he came to our side,” he looked at Draco now, their eyes met. “But Snape got there first, dragged him back to the Manor. He was just as much a prisoner there as we were. Like I said, I’ll vouch for him.”

“Come in, then,” Bill said hesitantly. Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him in before he could soak up anymore rain. He was shivering.

The sitting room was large and round, with light, airy colors and plenty of places to sit down. Fleur offered Harry and Draco towels, and they sat next to each other by the fire, where Ron and Hermione were huddled on the hearth. Luna was laying across the couch, and Fleur had given her an entire tray of potion bottles.

“‘Arry,” Fleur started, but then she trailed off, looking intently at Draco. “You look familiar, ‘ave we met?”

“Yes,” Draco choked out, “Yule Ball.”

“Ah,” she smiled. “You were zee one who could waltz!”

He nodded, smiling just a little. Harry turned immediately to ask him what that was about, but Bill entered the room with steaming mugs of hot chocolate for all of them.

“So,” he said as each of them reached eagerly for their mugs, “What happened here? Where have you been? It’s the middle of the night, and it’s been months since any of us have heard from you. Mum’s been worried sick, Ron.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione all shared a look.

“Bill, you know we can’t tell you-” Ron started, and Bill rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, Dumbledore’s orders. We know, but… surely there’s something you can tell us.” he and Fleur were both sullen and pale.

“We got caught,” Harry explained, “By snatchers. We were on the mission Dumbledore left for me, and I said You-Know-Who’s name. The snatchers took us to Malfoy manor, but he wasn’t there. Hermione had disguised me, so they couldn’t figure out if it was actually me or not, and I’m sure that’s the only reason we’re alive.”

Bill and Fleur were looking thunderstruck. Harry continued.

“Then in the middle of the night, Malfoy came to get us. We all escaped, but Bellatrix Lestrange threw a knife at me when we were apparating out of there, and he…” Harry couldn’t help but look at Draco now, who was looking right back. 

“He took a knife for me. He stood in front of me, and if he hadn’t, I would have been killed.” Harry paused here, and for a moment, he and Draco just looked at each other.

“We’ve all been together ever since, still trying to finish what Dumbledore started. Then Luna got really hurt, and Ron brought us here.” Harry finished, finally turning away from Draco’s gaze.

“You cannot tell us what ‘urt you?” Fleur asked at once, worriedly looking back and forth from Luna’s injuries to the four of them.

“It was my own fault,” Luna said quietly, and at once was met with shouts of protest from all of them.

“It was dark magic,” Hermione explained, “That’s all we should say, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Bill said, sighing. “Fleur’s great with healing magic, she should be able to help.” He looked at her fondly and she gave him a strained smile.

“I deed plan to work at St. Mungo’s, you know,” Fleur added, pulling another tiny potion vial from her robe and uncorking it for Luna.

“What about the Order?” Harry asked, unable to hold it in any longer. 

“How is everyone?” Ron interrupted.

“We’re all fine,” Bill sighed again, and Harry noticed lines around his eyes he hadn’t seen before. The stress of the war was already taking its toll on him. 

“We’ve mostly been focused on helping people escape. A lot of muggle-borns have had to flee the country, you know. And our whole family’s blood traitors, we can’t show up at work anymore.” He sighed, looking deflated. “I helped Mum and Dad move to Muriel’s just last week. Fred and George are driving her up the wall, I’m sure, but Mum wouldn’t let them stay in Diagon Alley anymore. Theirs is about the only shop still open, but considering what family they’re from, Mum reckons they’ll be ransacked any day now, and their apartment above the shop isn’t safe anymore. Ginny’s still at Hogwarts, she leaves for Christmas holiday next week. I don’t know if Mum will let her go back, Hogwarts is a right mess. They’ve got Death Eaters teaching and Snape as headmaster, but if it were up to me, I’d ask her to stay. She’s been great for the kids- she and some of the others have been helping smuggle all the muggle-born kids out of school and we- I mean, the Order- get them and their families out of the country.”

“We heard about that!” Hermione gushed, “On the radio, Potterwatch!”

“We ‘ave been listening too!” Fleur smiled excitedly. “They are… They are  _ astucieux,  _ those boys!” 

“Brilliant  _ and  _ stupidly brave,” Bill shook his head, smiling. “The broadcast really worried Mum to begin with, but once the Order started joining them, she gave in. Oh, and, wait- Merlin, they’ll kill me if they found out later you were here and we didn’t tell them.”

“We have to be careful,” Hermione worried, chewing on her bottom lip. She and Ron both looked at Harry.

“Well, I…” to be truthful, Harry wanted to see the Weasleys more than anything. He missed his family so much he felt it like a fire burning in his chest. “I don’t think it would hurt to tell them, we’ll just have to do it in the safest way we can. Make sure news doesn’t spread. We might have to have them all visit separately? I don’t know. How would the Order set it up?”

“We can worry about zat in zee morning!” Fleur announced, and Harry saw that Luna had fallen fast asleep on the couch. “You all need some rest. Luna can stay ‘ere, and I will show you all to your ‘ooms.”

Shell cottage was fairly small, with only one spare bedroom aside from Bill and Fleur’s, who’s room all of them adamantly refused to take. In the end, Ron and Hermione took the study, a room just off the living room on the first floor, and Harry and Draco were given the spare bedroom upstairs. 

“I am sorry you ‘ave to share,” Fleur sighed as she showed them into the tiny bedroom. “We ‘ad to move zee twin beds downstairs when we ‘ad Order members staying ‘ere, and Bill’s auntie Muriel gave us this one.”

“It’s fine, really,” Harry said, eyeing the one, objectively small bed. 

“If we ‘ad let Ron and ‘ermione take zee ‘oom with only one bed, I theenk Molly would ‘ave killed me,” Fleur admitted in a conspiratorial whisper, and Harry and Draco both laughed quietly. 

“Sleep well! Come knock if you need us!” she smiled and closed the door behind her.

In the quiet darkness, Harry could hear the rush of the sea against the rocks below. The window in this room faced the ocean over the edge of the cliff, and Harry could see the cold rain slowing down into a drizzle against the window panes. The two of them said nothing as they turned away from each other and changed clothes, then sat, facing opposite walls, on the bed.

_ Potter?  _ the golden script read, appearing in front of him slowly. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked.

_ The muggles you lived with. What were they like? _

Harry turned to look at him and found Draco was leaning back against the headboard, half casual half nervous, with his knees pulled up towards him.

“What’s this coming from?” Harry asked.

_ What I saw in your mind, your memories.  _

“Oh,” Harry said. “They were pretty terrible, honestly. I suspect my cousin Dudley maybe isn’t so bad, now that he’s older, he was much nicer to me this summer right before I left. When I was younger he was an awful bully and a spoiled prat, and my aunt and uncle treated him like a prince and me like their slave. I did all the housework, hardly got any food, was punished  _ constantly,  _ most of the time for things I couldn’t even help, and-”

_ Did they beat you?  _ Malfoy asked, looking at him with an expression Harry couldn’t read. 

“Not really,” Harry shrugged, gritting his teeth.

_ Don’t lie.  _ Draco looked angry now.  _ They beat you, didn’t they? _

“I don’t remember them ever really doing it.” Harry admitted. “They threatened me with it a lot, though. My uncle was always locking me in my cupboard without any supper, that sort of thing, he’d rough me up a bit but he didn’t, you know, give me a black eye or anything. Not like what we saw, I don’t remember that happening. My aunt did swing a pan at my head once, but I don’t remember much from when I was really young except that they’d be mad at me for talking much at all, and I was never allowed to ask questions. I suspect if I hadn’t been so small and fast, they would have beat me, though.”

Draco was staring at him, confused and horrified. 

_ Did you say your cupboard?  _ He asked after a moment.  _ What do you mean your cupboard? _

“Oh, sorry,” Harry said. “I should have explained. Before Hogwarts I slept in a cupboard under the stairs. When I started getting my letters they moved me to the spare bedroom. I had outgrown the cupboard by the next summer anyway.”

_ They kept you in a cupboard.  _ Draco looked absolutely furious.

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry shrugged, “I’m fine now. Besides, I spent Christmas at Hogwarts and half my summers with the Weasleys and Hermione. It was only a few weeks every year, sometimes only one week!”

“But that is a big deal!” Draco said loudly, his voice cracked and straining. He grimaced.  _ I shouldn’t have said that out loud.  _

“It’s over now, why are you so angry about it?” Harry asked.

Draco sighed and slumped further down on the bed.  _ We all thought you had a perfect life, you know. You were the chosen one. You were Harry bloody Potter. I was told bedtime stories about you as a kid! We didn’t know you lived with muggles, and then when we all found out, I just assumed- I thought, you know, they doted on you. It never made sense to me why you liked the Weasleys so much, why insulting them would spark you into a rage immediately, but insulting the muggles in your family wouldn’t. We all thought you loved them.  _

Harry couldn’t do anything but stare. Draco continued.

_ I never knew. I should have figured it out, I guess. Your robes and your school things were always top quality, but on the rare occasions I saw you in muggle clothes- on the train, Christmas holidays- you were always wearing hand-me-downs, old, worn out clothes too big for you. I feel so stupid. You always seemed so miserable to leave Hogwarts… Why didn’t anyone do anything? Dumbledore knew, didn’t he? _

“They were the only relatives I had,” Harry answered, “And I had to stay, it was part of some magical protection from you know-know-who.”

_ That fucking-  _ Draco stood up and started pacing - _ any wizarding family would have taken you in-  _ he ran his fingers through his hair roughly - _ what a load of shit, they all knew, the teachers, the order-  _ he stopped in front of the window and stared downward at the sea.

_ He shouldn’t have let you stay where they wouldn’t take care of you.  _ He spelled at last. He was breathing hard, as if his short bout of pacing had really drained him.

“Malfoy, really,” Harry said, standing up and walking over to the window beside him. “Really. It’s fine. I’m okay.”

_ I’m sorry.  _ Draco spelled again.  _ I know it’s not my business. It’s just… seeing you like that… was shocking to me. _

“Oh,” Harry answered. He had no idea how to react to this kind of thing. Ron and Hermione had been really upset, too, when they found out how the Dursleys treated him. They had quickly accepted he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, though, and they had only ever discussed it when it was in terms of how quickly they could get him out of their house during the summers. Draco was something else entirely.

He folded his arms now, a bit like he was hugging himself, and turned to look at Harry. 

_ My father,  _ he admitted, looking like it physically hurt him to spell out,  _ used to beat me, when I was very small. Before Hogwarts. When he would catch me causing trouble, or whining, or messing with something in the Manor I wasn’t supposed to touch. _

Harry was stunned. “But your dad-”

Draco wasn’t finished.  _ I know. I bragged about him, his power, his money. I loved him, I wanted to be just like him when I was older. It was easy to use his name to get out of trouble, too. If anyone hurt me, I could tell him, and he’d make life hell for their whole family. But yes- he would punish me, brutally, when I was small. One day when I was about seven or eight, my mother stopped him. It was the first time I’d ever seen them fighting. He never did it again, after that- but the fear that he would was enough to keep me in line.  _

He sighed. Harry tried to catch his eye. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t know. I never would have- I thought-”

_ If you think he didn’t love me, you’re wrong.  _ Draco said quickly, his chin back in it’s usual high position.  _ They love me very much, my parents. My father just… he didn’t know how to show it properly. I don’t want your pity, Potter. I just wanted you to know I understand. Maybe not perfectly, but I understand enough. _

Harry smiled. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “And I don’t pity you. I- I appreciate it. I’m glad you told me.” He resisted the urge to put a hand on Draco’s arm, his shoulder, anything.

_ Of course.  _ Draco answered, looking at the bed.  _ We should go to sleep, though. _

 

A connection had been forged between the two of them that night that was different than their occlumency connection, but possibly much more important. Try as they may, Ron and Hermione would never understand what it was like to live in a place with someone you feared. They never knew the harsh cold of trying to gain affection from someone you knew, deep down, would never give it to you. They didn’t know what it was like to walk on eggshells in the place you called home, constantly fearing the wrong move, the wrong words spoken, any random thing that would set them off. They didn’t know to flinch, when someone in their family raised a hand. Harry loved his friends for their understanding and their effort. The barrier of their constant love and friendship had been the only thing that protected him from utter misery at the Dursleys. Harry suspected this is the same sort of protection that Draco had received from his mother, from his young friends at Hogwarts, too, all those years ago. 

Harry suspected that, like him, Draco was very uncomfortable talking about abuse. Harry often liked to pretend the Dursely’s lack of affection had never bothered him or hurt him, and it was just something that rolled off his back. It wasn’t true, though. It wasn’t true for Draco, either. But the understanding- the fact that both of them had seen this, and gone through it, and were fine, now- that was enough. They didn’t need to talk about it.

Harry stretched, yawning, and the two of them lay down, side by side. This bed wasn’t as big as the bed in Draco’s bedroom in the tent, but it still had comfortable space enough for both of them, though they were practically shoulder to shoulder. Harry tried his best not to touch him, hoping Draco couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart this close. 

They each lay on their sides, facing opposite walls yet again. Even though Harry was as close as he could get to the edge of the bed, there was barely an inch between them of empty space, and Harry could feel the heat rolling off of the boy next to him. The space between them, after all these years, had changed. Instead of something he craved, it was something Harry wished he could get rid of entirely.

“Goodnight,” Harry said at last, forcing his eyes shut and curling up under the blanket, determined that he would sleep without moving at all.

“Goodnight,” Draco answered in a hoarse whisper. He had popped one of the lozenges in his mouth before bed again, Harry could smell it.

Harry tried to tell himself that he didn’t feel a rush of affection for the cracking voice that had answered him, but it was blooming in his chest all the same, like a warm fire, lulling him to sleep.

 

+++

 

Harry dreamt of a lush garden, a thousand flowers blooming in white and gold, their fragrant petals falling around him. He had never been here before, but he knew the trail in front of him like he’d walked it his whole life. The worn brick path stretched on and on, winding past fountains, through arches, and underneath gigantic willow trees that swayed quietly in the breeze. This place felt safe. It felt like home.

Harry walked, enjoying the light breeze and birdsong in the distance. Sometimes, he would spot a small animal on the path, a fox, or a rabbit, crossing his path. They didn’t seem to be afraid of him, but kept their distance, disappearing into the hedges when he got too close.

The sun was setting, and Harry thought he should turn around, but the golden orange light across the garden was so beautiful that he wanted very much to stay. He wanted to let the sun go down and then sit amongst the roses, looking up at the stars. 

All at once he turned a corner, and there was a clearing surrounded by baby’s breath and big, white blooms he didn’t recognize. The hedges here were glittering with fairies, and there was an ancient iron table in the center, which was set for tea. There was a woman behind the table, on her knees by the hedges, trimming each tiny stray branch by hand.

“Mother,” Harry said, and his voice was not his own. “I’m back, dinner will be ready soon. It’s going to get cold, you should come inside. I’ve brought your coat.” and Harry realized that he did, in fact, have a coat slung over his arm.

Narcissa Malfoy stood from the grass and took off a pair of dirty gardening gloves, tucking them into a pocket in her apron. She stretched and looked around at the sunset, and then turned to Harry. It was the most loving smile he felt like he’d ever been given. She was so beautiful, like this.

“Thank you, dear,” she came and took the coat, and then brushed a stray hair away from his forehead, still smiling. “How was your walk?”

“It was nice,” he answered, holding out his arm. “Your rhododendrons look amazing, you know. You did a great job.” She took his arm warmly and charmed the tea set to float in the air behind them, following them to the house.

“They do look well, don’t they? I was so worried they wouldn’t last in this weather, but-”

And then Harry was falling.

He landed in the dark, and he wasn’t  _ him  _ anymore. This, unfortunately, was familiar. He’d been here over and over, his whole life. In Voldemort’s mind, he was only a speck in the midst of a thousand angry, dangerous thoughts screaming for attention. But there was one thought that struck him hardest, the pulsing obsession that Voldemort wanted most. 

_ The Wand. I can kill him with The Wand. _

And then Harry woke up, head pounding. They had only taken the first step in getting control over his connection to Voldemort, he had known that it wouldn’t just go away, but he was still tired and achy and disappointed. The dream before- had it been Draco’s dream, or was it a memory? He didn’t know.

One of his arms was asleep. Even through his closed eyes he could feel that sunlight, filtered through winter clouds, was dimly lighting up the room. It was warm and comfortable, and he was still exhausted, and just wanted to burrow further into the bed and go back to sleep. Then he realized  _ where he was. _

During the night, both he and Draco had rolled over. Considering that there had been barely any space between them, neither of them would have had to have shifted at all, but now they were laying in a tangled heap, facing each other. Draco one leg slung over Harry’s hip, clearly an attempt to curl up in his usual sleeping position. Harry’s arm was underneath him, which was why it was asleep, but even worse- their faces were only centimeters apart. Harry had, evidently, pulled himself into Draco’s embrace as soon as he’d had the chance, so his free arm was laying over Draco’s hip. Draco had one arm under Harry’s head and the other on top of Harry’s arm, as if when Harry had grabbed onto him in the night, he’d held him right back.

There was no  _ way  _ Harry would be able to get out of this without waking Draco up. He was surprised he hadn’t woken up already- if Draco had opened his eyes, Harry would have felt his eyelashes brush his cheek.

Harry felt like his entire body was blushing. Of all the ways to get close to Draco, it had to be this, didn’t it? He lay there, not moving, hardly breathing, for as long as he dared. Sounds started coming from downstairs. Bill and Fleur’s hushed voices were muffled, but Harry knew they were making breakfast. As slowly as he could, he pulled his arm from under Draco’s. He could feel the warmth seeping from his skin, and Draco’s fingers, just for a second, grazed along the skin of his arm. Harry had goosebumps.

Getting Draco’s leg off of him was another puzzle, one that involved countless, agonizingly slow seconds of pulling his body backwards while his other arm was still trapped, but he finally succeeded. By now he could smell eggs and bacon cooking, and Ron and Hermione’s muffled voices had joined the others.

At last, after slowly pulling his unfeeling arm for several minutes, Draco shifted in his sleep. His eyebrows knit together like he was frustrated- Harry suspected he was cold, because he turned over and pulled half the blankets with him, freeing Harry’s arm and bundling up in a tight ball.

Harry didn’t dare sigh in relief, getting up as quietly as he could and shaking the pins and needles from his arm. He dressed quickly, and then turned to leave. 

Draco still had that vaguely frustrated look on his face, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles, but he was still very clearly asleep. Cursing himself, Harry went to the closet and looked, and sure enough, there was another quilt tucked away in the back. Harry draped it over Draco as gently as he could, and was relieved when he stretched out a little, bundling under the blankets further and his face smoothing out peacefully.

It was adorable. Harry definitely didn’t spend another good thirty seconds admiring him.

Harry went to breakfast with a weird, anxious guilt that somehow they all knew that he’d been practically chest to chest with the boy upstairs. Logically he knew they couldn’t see it, but the leftover warmth from the bed felt like it was lingering all over him. He could swear that his clothes smelled like Draco- that, and he was still blushing all over.

“Morning, Harry,” Bill called cheerfully from the kitchen when Harry appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and the others all turned to him with their own morning greetings. There was a fire in the grate, but the wooden floors didn’t hold the heat, so it was much colder downstairs. Hermione was bundled up under a blanket on the couch with Luna, both of them with their noses stuck in books. Ron and Fleur were setting the table, and Bill was taking something steaming from the oven. It was later than Harry had thought- Fleur said that they hadn’t wanted to wake anyone up before eleven, considering how little sleep they’d all gotten.

Bill and Fleur had made a wonderful breakfast- the sheer amount of eggs, bacon, toast, sausages, muffins and pumpkin juice were weighing down the small dining room table, and Harry and the others all tucked in, cramming around the table with little room to spare.

“You didn’t wake Malfoy up?” Ron asked, and Harry, at the mere mention of him, could feel heat reaching into his cheeks. 

“No, I uh, felt like he should rest,” Harry mumbled, hiding his face in his goblet.

“‘Arry,” Fleur started kindly, laying a hand on his, “We were all talking, before you joined us, and Bill and I were wondering-” she passed the salt to Luna, “-if you would be too opposed to staying for zee ‘olidays?”

“Christmas?” Harry repeated numbly. He hadn’t thought about a holiday in ages, he’d been so wrapped up in all of this.

“It’s only two weeks away,” Bill explained. “Well, two and a half. The whole Order would have time to visit, and Mum and Dad would love to see all of you. Luna and Hermione both still need to rest, anyway.”

Hermione started to protest, but Fleur cut her off. “One day with zee Skele-Grow doesn’t fix everyzing, you know! You still ‘ad broken bones, you need to rest!”

“She’s right, Hermione, you’re still limping.” Ron sighed. “And I… I would really like to stay a while, if that’s alright with you two.” he looked pleadingly at Harry and Hermione. Harry knew Ron wanted to stay, and he wanted to stay too, desperately. But how long did they have before Voldemort got what he was looking for, or worse, actually caught up to them?

Just then, Draco came down the stairs, stretching and yawning. In the half a second that Harry looked up at him, he noticed that Draco was wearing the green scarf Luna had made him buy in that muggle village.  _ Draco was wearing Harry’s scarf.  _

Harry ducked his face down and pretended to be very invested in his mostly-empty plate while Draco came in and sat down. Fleur grabbed him a plate, and Hermione filled him in on the conversation. Harry felt it was too soon for Draco to have woken up. Did he remember? Did he know that Harry had woken up tangled in the sheets with him? Could everyone in the room see the blush creeping up Harry’s neck?

“So,” Bill asked again, “What do you think? Can you stay?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stay for a little while, but… I have to- we need to talk.” Harry said, and the others nodded. 

After breakfast, Bill and Fleur pointed them towards the gardens, and the five of them headed out the back door into the crisp morning air. There was a greenhouse ahead, and to avoid being overheard, Harry lead them inside, where the thick, humid air fogged the windows. 

“He’s looking for a wand.” Harry said at once, “I’m sure of it now. That’s the only reason he hasn’t realized we’re killing off horcruxes. He’s distracted, but eventually he’ll catch up. And he’s… it’s like he’s hopeful. He thinks he’s close. He thinks if he has this wand, he can win. It’s like, these phrases get stuck in my head, things he’s thinking about- he called it the Older Wand, I think?”

“That sounds familiar,” Ron said, thinking. 

Hermione’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god. Could he have said the Elder Wand?”

Luna made a noise that sounded like a squeak. “You Know Who wants  _ the deathstick?” _

“Do you know what it is?” Harry asked the two of them.

_ Everyone knows what that is,  _ Draco’s eyes were wide.  _ It’s not real, though, is it? It’s just a children’s story. _

“It can’t be real,” Hermione was biting her lip, “But if he thinks it is, he’ll stop at nothing to find it...” she trailed off, clearly lost in thought.

“But what is it!?” Harry practically shouted.

“It’s an unbeatable wand,” Ron said, at the same time that Luna answered excitedly, “It’s one of the Deathly Hallows!”

“What are the Deathly Hallows?”

Ron, Draco, Luna and Hermione each seemed to have their own distinct ideas on what exactly the hallows were, and Harry was given an hour of non-stop conversation between the four of them to absorb. 

Hermione, of course, thought it was all nonsense, a fable meant to scare children. But Dumbledore had given her a book with the original story in it, and that, to Harry, seemed like a sign that even if the hallows weren’t real, Dumbledore wanted them to find out about them. Maybe he had known Voldemort would go after them. Maybe he believed they were real, and Harry should go after them.

Ron and Draco had heard the story as children, of course, but had vastly different viewpoints of the hallows. Ron thought they were real, because if Dumbledore had sent them a sign, of course they were real. He insisted that Harry’s cloak was  _ the cloak  _ and that they were going to have to go after the hallows too, if they were going to get to them before Voldemort did.

Draco, on the other hand, thought it was impossible for the hallows to be real.  _ The story might be based on real things. The cloak could be real, I don’t know. The stone is just nonsense. But an unbeatable wand? If it was real, whoever had it would have taken over by now. We would have heard about it.  _ He had said. And in one way, he was right, Harry thought- it was just like Voldemort to go after any hint of power, and a story about beating death would surely be one that lured him in.

Luna didn’t just believe in the hallows, she swore by them. She’d lived her whole life believing in them, searching for them. Her father had taken her on countless journeys looking for the faintest hints of the hallows. She told Harry all about the symbol, which Hermione had found scrawled in the margins of  _ Beedle the Bard.  _ She told him about the history, the theories, the popularity of the search for the hallows after the dark wizard Grindelwald rose to power. She had stories upon stories of sightings and lineage and so-called proof.

They were split, fifty-fifty. Harry was the tie breaker, but he didn’t know what he should do. On the one hand, Dumbledore had lead them this far. If there really was an unbeatable wand, and he got it first, Voldemort wouldn’t stand a chance. On the other, Voldemort didn’t really seem like he had a clue what he was doing, and if they could take out all the horcruxes while he was distracted… well, then, they’d be more successful just doing what they’d been doing. But Harry still wasn’t sure what he believed, so he changed the subject.

As it turned out, wanting to stay for the holidays was a unanimous decision. Even Draco, who Harry had expected to be opposed to spending Christmas with a whole hoard of Weasleys and Order members, wanted to spend the rest of the month  _ far away  _ from hunting horcruxes.

When the five of them returned to the kitchen with their decision, Bill and Fleur beamed, and Bill rushed off to send a message to his family.

“Stealing my clothes now, are we?” Harry said to Draco, grinning, as soon as the others had left the room.

Draco looked down, clearly shocked, and audibly gasped when he realized he was wearing Harry’s scarf. He pulled it off at once, pink flush on his cheeks, and handed it to Harry, spelling out  _ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just saw the green when I was half asleep and thought it was my Slytherin scarf.  _

“No, it’s fine, I don’t care if you wear it!” Harry laughed. He was lying. He did care.

_ If you say so,  _ Draco replied in shining golden text,  _ but I think it looks better on you. Pity you weren’t a Slytherin, right?  _ He grinned back.

Harry only stayed in the room long enough to see Draco put the scarf back on, nodding numbly. Then he bolted to the bathroom, where he spent the next few minutes furiously and silently berating himself for ever bringing the scarf up at all, and splashing cold water on his face to try and make the rising heat go away.

 

+++

 

Shell Cottage, over the next few days, became one of Harry’s favorite places on earth. Every afternoon, he’d go on walks along the beach, or climb up the sharp rocks of the cliff that overlooked the ocean. The sound of waves crashing against the shore gave him a sense of peace that he never knew he’d been missing, and he felt as if he had plenty of room to think.

One of the things he wished he wasn’t thinking about was Draco. Every morning, he’d wake, warm and peaceful,  _ wrapped in Draco’s arms.  _ And every morning, he’d carefully and quietly pull himself free before heading down to breakfast. So far, it seemed like Draco hadn’t noticed. If he had, he certainly hadn’t said anything about it.

They did, however, talk about their dreams quite a bit. Since the first night, Harry had dreamed of nothing but memories that didn’t seem to be his. He hadn’t even dreamed of Voldemort. He would dream in Draco’s point of view, bittersweet memories in the gardens and ballrooms of Malfoy Manor. Draco, however, seemed to be dreaming mostly of Hogwarts, and the burrow. One morning, down at breakfast, the first thing he’d done was spell to Ron-  _ Why is your bedroom so hideously orange? _

With news spreading that they were staying with Bill and Fleur, however, they were bound to get some visitors. The first was Remus Lupin.

He arrived right before nightfall, when the wind was loud and rattling the windows. Harry, hearing the wind chimes at the front door tossing about, put down Dumbledore’s biography and peeked out of the window. He could hear a muffled conversation, and the front door closed.

“Harry,” Hermione called up the stairs, “We have a visitor!” She sounded almost falsely cheerful, probably because the last time they’d seen Lupin, he and Harry had a violent row in Grimmauld Place. Had Lupin forgiven Harry for calling him a coward, or was this going to be another attempt to leave his family behind? After all, right after he’d refused to let Lupin join their horcrux hunt, they’d ended up bringing Luna and Draco along.

When Harry finally made his way downstairs, he could see Luna, Hermione, and Ron all sitting in the living room with Lupin, steaming mugs in everyone’s hands. Bill and Fleur were working on dinner together in the kitchen, laughing at something he’d missed. Draco was sitting on the bottom step with his arms crossed, looking as if he was desperate to escape.

“You okay?” Harry whispered to him as he passed.

“Fine,” Draco snapped, and he was up the stairs and out of sight before Harry could press him.

“Ah, Harry!” Lupin called, standing up, and Harry couldn’t go after Draco now. They met in the middle of the room and Lupin gave him a tight hug. His coat was worn, but somehow Lupin looked happier, lighter. “Do you mind if we talk alone?”

Harry gave a pleading look to Ron and Hermione, who both nodded at him encouragingly.

“Sure,” he answered at last, and Remus pulled him along into the study. 

Harry sat down. The room was fairly large, with space for the beds that Ron and Hermione were using as well as a tiny table and chairs that Harry guessed was used as a desk, when Bill and Fleur weren’t hosting guests.

“Harry,” Remus sighed, sitting down beside him, “I wanted to thank you. And I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? But I’m the one who-”

“I know,” Remus interrupted, “But it was what I needed to hear, Harry. I was acting foolish. Immature. It wasn’t right for me to place the burdens of my own problems on you, nor was it right for me to try and escape from them in such a way. I know some of the things I said about Nymphadora and our child must have hurt you, with the way you’ve grown up. Thank you for telling me to go back to them.”

“So- so everything’s alright between you and Tonks, then?”

“Well,” Lupin sighed again, and now his smile was bittersweet. “Not exactly. We’re on good terms, if that’s what you’re asking. We’re just not… together.”

“You broke up?” Harry asked, crestfallen.

“We’re… living apart, yes.” Lupin answered. “I admit, I- everything I said was- well.” He looked nervous. “I told you I should never have married her. That was, in a way, true. I don’t regret my feelings for her, but she and I just… rushed, so fast, into our relationship. We felt pressured, I by her and she by others, and we got married just a few weeks after we got together. Before that, there was nothing remotely romantic about our relationship, besides feelings on both sides for people who, frankly, didn’t exist.”

“Uh, what?” Harry asked, completely lost.

“She idolized me, you see, and I her. But the woman I fell for, and the man she married… We were both, I think, in love with the idea of each other more than the real thing. She’s so young, and she’s wonderful and I can’t speak for how she felt, but that’s what she told me. And when the two of us first met, I was still very much in a grieving period. I think I leaned on the idea of a relationship saving me from the loss of Sirius-” here his voice cracked just a little, and he looked away from Harry, “-and that was wrong of me. I just felt… I owed you an explanation, after you talked to me. I wouldn’t have gone back if you hadn’t convinced me to, I would have just run away. I still love Nymphadora, Harry, and I love our child, and I know she’ll be a wonderful mother to them. We’ll raise them together, we’ll love each other, we’ll love them, we just won’t be… married anymore.”

“Oh,” Harry said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. It had all happened, and come together, and fallen apart so fast. 

“Sorry,” Lupin stuttered, “Am- am I putting too much on you again?”

“No,” Harry answered at once, “No, I’m glad you told me! I’m just sort of shocked, that’s all. Sorry. I’ll catch up.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“Er, you’re welcome?”

“There’s one more thing I’d like to ask you, if you’re alright with it.” Lupin added, smiling now.

“Yeah?”

“Nymphadora agrees, she’ll choose godmother and I’ll choose godfather. Would you? Would you be godfather, I mean?” he placed a warm hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s heart swelled. 

“Yes! Oh my god, uh, really? Me? Yes!” and Lupin wrapped Harry in a tight embrace, where they stayed for a moment, grinning into each other’s shoulders.

Lupin stayed only for a quick dinner and a chat with the others before he headed back into the blustery weather. Draco, even at dinner, managed to stay completely silent. Harry tried his best, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly was going on.

Right before Lupin apparated into the night, he gave a parting hug to Luna, Hermione, Ron and Harry, shaking hands with Bill and kissing Fleur’s cheek, thanking them for dinner. Draco tried to slink back into the living room, but before he could, Lupin had called out to him.

“Mr. Malfoy?” he said, and Draco turned around very slowly, looking nervous. Lupin held out his hand, and Draco shook it.

“I’m not surprised you’re here, you know. I was your teacher once, after all.”

Draco couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Congratulations are in order, I believe, for finally defeating that boggart of yours.” He winked, and then disappeared into the night. When Harry turned to look at Draco, he was beet-red, and he fled up the stairs, swinging their bedroom door shut behind him.

“Oh no,” Luna sighed. She looked to Harry, and without a word from anyone, he rushed up the stairs after Draco.

“Hey? Malfoy?” He asked quietly. The lights were off in their room, and the rain had started to patter against their window once again. He closed the door behind him. “You’re… sitting in the dark? Are you okay?”

Draco didn’t answer. He had his back to Harry, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. Harry heard him clear his throat and then sniffle, and within a moment he was by Draco’s side.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, placing a hand on Draco’s arm despite himself. He could see now that Draco was shaking just a little. 

_ Sorry,  _ the gold text read,  _ I didn’t intend to be rude, I promise. I just couldn’t… I didn’t want to face him. _

“What? Face Lupin? Why?” Harry’s hand slipped to Draco’s back. It was the way he comforted all his friends, but this felt different. 

Draco shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling too quickly to be casual.  _ He was… Lupin wasn’t a terrible teacher. I didn’t make it easy for him. None of us in Slytherin did, we knew Snape didn’t like him, and that was enough. He didn’t put up with our shit, though, he made sure we were learning. He didn’t let me get away with pretending I knew it all before he got there. And I was… _

He paused for so long that Harry had to say something. “You were what?”

_ I was an arse and he was kind to me anyway. I was terrible at that stupid spell, and I almost failed the final exam.  _

“What spell?” Harry asked, but he remembered what Lupin had said.

_ Riddiculus.  _ The golden text answered slowly.  _ He had to help me out of that trunk at the end of the exam. I was just sitting in there, crying like an idiot. _

“But Lupin said you finally-“

_ The boggart was my father, Potter. Telling me I’d never amount to anything more than his pathetic excuse for a son. I would never be good enough to crawl out from under his shadow, much less be liked, be loved. He berated me for a lifetime, it felt like. But Lupin- even after how disrespectful I was all term, he pulled me out and made sure I was okay. He’d heard some of the things my father said. He was… supportive. He told me how excellent I was as a student, despite my attitude, and that I could achieve whatever I wanted, my father be damned. _

“He… he never told me.” Harry said quietly. But it sounded exactly like the sort of thing Lupin would do. He’d been excellent, to all their classmates, and despite being from Gryffindor, he had never once showed a house bias. Of course he’d helped Draco, too.

_ Well I certainly didn’t tell anyone,  _ Draco responded, still not looking at Harry.  _ I was mortified. Besides, he was clearly one of the teachers who loved you, so I couldn’t admit I admired him! And then of course, word got out he was a werewolf and he resigned, and- I never thanked him. I just used him as the next thing to insult you about. _

“Oh,” Harry answered. Because that was true. 

_ When he showed up tonight, I felt like I couldn’t face him. My father was one of the many parents sending howlers, after all.  _

“It’s fine,” Harry moved his hand to Draco’s shoulder, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “I’m sure he knows you’re grateful. He didn’t even question you were with us.”

_ That’s another thing,  _ Draco added. He wiped his eyes.  _ He looked at me like… he was proud of me. Like he knew I’d end up where I am. _

“Maybe he guessed you would be,” Harry said quietly. He realized he’d perhaps been holding onto Draco for too long, but he didn’t want to let go. They both stayed silent for a long time, Draco mulling things over, and Harry staring straight ahead, too nervous to say anything else, but too nervous to pull his arm away.

Draco finally spoke, long after he’d stopped sniffling.  _ We have to do something about these dreams, you know. Last night I dreamt about that Ravenclaw seeker crying on you. She wasn’t a very good kisser. _

Harry burst into peals of nervous laughter. “Yeah, I guess we should,” he said, his cheeks flushed. “I’ve only dreamt about your mother’s garden over and over.”

_ Lucky you,  _ Draco spelled, sighing.  _ At least we aren’t seeing each other’s actual dreams. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to see whatever nonsense your subconscious brings up, your memories are bad enough. _

“I didn’t even think about that,” Harry said worriedly, “I haven’t been feeling as much from You-Know-Who, but what if I had been?”

_ That’s what we were supposed to be stopping, remember? _

“No, I was sure all of this was just so I could dream about your mother,” Harry rolled his eyes, and Draco, just barely, cracked a smile.

It was settled, then- every day, they would go back to their original occlumency lessons. It quickly became an easy routine, because this time, their time alone didn’t send them spiraling into shouting matches. It was nicer now, Harry thought, easier. He and Draco would sit down every morning after breakfast, sometimes on the floor of their bedroom, sometimes outside on the sand, if the weather permitted. 

Each time, Draco would have Harry meditate for a while first, trying on his own to focus on that mental block and get around it. Now that Harry knew it was there, he felt like it was a crumbling wall, and each day they practiced it fell away even more. It got easier every morning to peek into Draco’s thoughts, or to shield his own. Harry was improving, and he was improving fast. Every day when they’d finished, Draco would brag on Harry’s vast improvement to Ron, Hermione and Luna, and Harry knew that Draco was  _ proud of him,  _ and that was enough for Harry to push himself to keep improving. Sometimes he practiced on his own, in the shower or on long walks by the shore. And every day, he felt more confident that his connection to Voldemort was slowly becoming less like an ever-present headache, and more like a door that he could open and close on his own. He didn’t have complete control of it yet, but he knew that eventually, he would.

Not quite every day, but still very often, Order members would visit Shell Cottage and fill them in on the news. Kingsley was first, and he stayed for lunch, telling them all about the fallout they’d caused at the Ministry. Apparently, the muggleborn trials  _ still  _ weren’t up and running, and the Department of Mysteries itself was working against the repairs. The space room’s lack of gravity, it seemed, was making it very difficult to put the Ministry back together, as half the rubble had started orbiting around the black hole, and the other half was speeding around like rogue asteroids. The Prophet, loyalties be damned, was having a field day with this.

Hestia Jones visited next, who Harry had last seen taking the Dursleys away in a muggle car. She informed him that they were handling their safe house about as well as the Dursleys could, rolling her eyes. Hestia brought them a huge ham that Fleur and Bill planned to use for Christmas dinner, and didn’t seem surprised to see either Draco or Luna with them, so Harry suspected (and hoped) that Kingsley had spread the news.

Dedalus Diggle came one night for dinner, and brought old Mrs. Figg with him. She was happy to see Harry, wrapping him in a tight hug and telling him he’d better not be doing anything reckless. Diggle had a large box of letters for Luna, half of which were from Hogwarts, the other half from her father. He informed her that Xenophilius was well, and safely away from Death Eaters, but was now on the run. Luna spent all afternoon reading her letters, happy tears spilling down her cheeks.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley showed up early one afternoon when it was so cold, Harry suspected it might snow. It was now only about a week before Christmas, and Fleur was in a right state, cleaning the house over and over, getting ready for the coming onslaught of guests. When the doorbell rang, Ron and Draco were sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing chess. Hermione was deep into Rita Skeeter’s Dumbledore biography for the second time, insisting she was fact checking. Harry was pretending to meditate (he and Draco had just finished all their occlumency practice for the day) while Luna did god-knows-what with his hair.

“That’ll be Mum,” Bill said, opening the door, and there they were. There was a chorus of hellos from all of them, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stood up and rushed over to greet them. 

“Harry!” Molly Weasley wrapped him in a tight hug, passing quickly over to Ron, who she fussed over. Harry could feel warmth seeping through his chest as he looked at them. 

“Love the new hair,” Mr. Weasley said, hugging him as well. “Not sure if yellow is your color, though.” He grinned, and Harry glared at Luna, who shrugged and changed his hair back to normal with a swish of her wand.

Molly now had Hermione and Luna wrapped up in her arms, and Harry, suddenly distinctly aware of the mental connection that was still strung between himself and Draco, felt a panic that wasn’t his own. Harry turned and looked at him, and Draco, paler than usual, seemed to inch towards the stairs, something he hadn’t done since Lupin had visited.

“Oh,” Molly said quietly, noticing who Harry was looking at.

Mr. Weasley, as politely as one could be in a situation like this, stepped forward, holding out a hand for Draco. “So,” he said, clearly a bit nervous, “I hear you’re on our side now.”

Draco gulped, and then, finally extending his hand, said quietly, “Yes sir.”

“Well,” Arthur continued, “I hope you’re doing alright, then? Ron wrote to us when you all got here and told us all about the manor, and Luna. Any friend of his is welcome with us.”

Draco turned, wide-eyed, to look at Ron, who was rubbing the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Sorry, mate,” Ron said, “Didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything. Just wanted to ah… warn them?”

“ _ Ronald!”  _ Molly tsk-ed at him. She strode forward and took Draco’s hand, too. “It’s nice to see you safe, dear.” she smiled warmly. “Thank you  _ ever  _ so much for taking care of my children.”

“Children?” Draco squeaked. His voice was still very scratchy.

“She meant me and Harry,” Ron answered, rolling his eyes and trying to drag his mother off of Draco. “Mum, leave him alone, you’re smothering him. Look at him, he clearly wants to run for it. You can’t adopt everyone, you’ve already got too many.”

Molly followed Ron reluctantly to the kitchen. “I hope you thanked him properly then, Ronald, he very well could have stayed behind and not helped you at all!”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and burst out laughing as Mrs. Weasley and Ron continued bickering in the other room, Bill and Fleur rushing in to greet them.

Mr. Weasley shook his head. “Ginny will be here later tonight,” he said, “Today’s the last day before the holiday break, and thankfully they’re letting them all come home.”

“Is she doing okay?” Hermione asked at once, and Arthur nodded.

“Molly’s been worrying sick about her, of course. She’s been really reckless, breaking all sorts of rules and standing up to the Death Eaters and all. We keep telling her just to come stay at home, but you know Ginny,” he sighed. “Can’t stand to have anyone tell her what to do, even if she knows she’d be safer that way. We’re hoping she’ll stay after Christmas.”

“Good luck,” Harry grinned, “I’m sure she’ll love hearing that.”

Bill started a fire in the grate, and all of them, including Draco, to Harry’s surprise, sat down in the living room, enjoying hot cups of tea and fire whiskey in the cold afternoon. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley told them everything they knew about what was going on at Hogwarts, which wasn’t much. They knew Snape was still headmaster, they knew that the Carrows were making life miserable. Ginny hadn’t told them exactly what she’d done, but apparently she got in trouble quite a bit. Harry guessed she was disrespecting the new teachers.

The fire burned and the smells of a cooking dinner wafted in from the kitchen, and Harry found he’d rather be here, amongst his best friends and his family, than anywhere else.

He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep until Hermione was shaking him awake. “Harry,” she said quietly, “Harry, Ginny’s here!”

But that wasn’t what alarmed him into leaping out of his chair. What did that was the huge crash of the front door slamming behind her as she stormed in.

“HARRY JAMES POTTER!” she shouted, as the glass in the windows still rattled.

“Er, yes?” Harry answered, turning to look at Ginny. She looked wild, ferocious, even. Her hair was blown about her face, and bits of snow were still clinging to her shoulders. Her face was red with anger as she strode across the room, and her lips were so thin that they were practically a straight line.

“YOU FUCKER!” she shouted, finally catching up to him and slamming her fist into his chest so hard that he lost his breath. 

“ _ Ginevra, language!”  _ Molly called, but Ginny clearly didn’t care.

“YOU DARE,” she shouted, shoving Harry backward until he slammed into the wall, “YOU DARE TELL ME THAT I’M TOO  _ YOUNG  _ TO GO WITH YOU, THAT YOU’RE ON A  _ SPECIAL MISSION FROM DUMBLEDORE-” _

“I am on a special mission from Dumbledore,” Harry choked, holding up his hands like a person at the end of a gun.

“-AND THEN! YOU HAVE THE  _ AUDACITY  _ TO GO AND GET MY BEST FRIEND-”

“Ginny I didn’t-”

“MY BEST FRIEND, HARRY! SHE’S MY AGE! LUNA AND I ARE! THE SAME! AGE!”

“I know, but I-”

“AND THEN! AS IF THAT WASN’T ENOUGH, YOU GO AND HOOK UP WITH  _ DRACO FUCKING MALFOY-” _

“Hook up? We didn’t hook up, I-I- was just-”

“HE’S THE SON OF A BLOODY DEATH EATER AND HE’S ONLY BEEN YOUR  _ WORST ENEMY  _ HALF YOUR LIFE, HARRY, WHEN WE WERE DATING, YOU WOULD TALK ABOUT HOW MUCH YOU HATED HIM IN YOUR SLEEP!”

Ron and Hermione both burst into giggles. Luna was looking back and forth from Ginny and Harry to Draco as if his reaction was vital to the scene. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were staring at each other as is one of them was to blame that their daughter knew what Harry Potter said in his sleep.

“I did  _ not  _ talk about Draco in my sleep,”

“OH, YOU’RE ON A FIRST NAME BASIS NOW?” Ginny shouted, her eyes bugging. Harry clapped a hand over his own mouth. And then, like some kind of massive idiot, he looked up and caught Draco’s eye. Draco was so pale his face was lighter than his hair. It hit Harry that he had never called Draco by his first name to his face. God, he was fucked.

Ginny was starting to reach what Harry and Ron called a “code red” level of anger, which meant that she was going to cry. Ginny hardly ever cried when she was sad, but when she was angry? Tears meant you should start running, and there were already tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. 

“We broke up,” she said, “Because you had to go off and do something stupid and noble. I know that, and I’m over it. But I thought we were friends, Harry. I thought I was more than just your ex. When you took Ron and Hermione with you and then used my age as an excuse, it really hurt.”

“I’m really sorry, Gin.” Harry sighed, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought… you’d be safer away from me.”

“Well jokes on you,” she laughed without even a trace of humor, “Hogwarts has got Death Eaters to fight too.”

Harry cracked a smile. “I heard you on the radio,” he said, “talking about how you kicked their arses.”

“Damn right I did!” She said, “But don’t think you’re getting away with this, Potter. You owe me. And Luna’s definitely coming to fight evil  _ with me  _ instead of you.”

“You should probably let her decide.”

“That’s my point, she’ll pick me. I’m better than you anyway.”

“I really am sorry, Ginny. I mean it. I didn’t intend for it to end up like this, I really didn’t. We ran into Luna. It was luck. And Malfoy saved our lives,” he dropped his voice lower. “We’re friends. I trust him. I know it looks weird. I know.”

Ginny looked him up and down with her lips pressed together again. “You’re telling me the world’s biggest coward saved your life, huh?”

“He’s not-“

“Did you forget,” she said even quieter than before, “That his father was the one who put Tom Riddle’s diary in my things? Did you forget he bullied me, and Ron, and Hermione? Did you forget how many fist fights you had with him? Did you forget how awful he was? How many times he said he hated you, us, anyone who wasn’t part of the literal  _ Death Eaters?”  _ Her eyes were boring into his.

“I didn’t forget,” Harry admitted, sighing. “But I did forgive him.”

“Well I don’t think I can, honestly.” She shrugged. Her voice was casual, but the set of her shoulders told Harry that she was still very angry.

“I… I understand. It’s fine. You don’t have to forgive him for me.” Harry was rocking back and forth on his heels now, his arms crossed. Ginny was staring at him intently, her eyes narrowed.

“For you.” She repeated, voice skeptical. “All right, Harry. If you want him around, it’s fine. Just don’t expect me to be friends with him.”

“I don’t,” Harry admitted.

“Fine.” She said. “I’m really glad you’re here. And I’m glad you’re okay.” She hugged him, and Harry rested his head on top of hers.

“I’m glad you’re okay too,” Harry said, and she broke away, giving him a half-hearted smile before going to join Luna and Hermione in the kitchen. Harry supposed everyone had gotten tired of watching them argue- except for Draco. Who was still standing across the room, paler than a ghost, his fingers at his throat and his eyes on the floor.

When Harry caught his eye, he fled the room. Harry’s heart caught in his throat.

The partial-Weasley clan left after dinner. As they were headed home, Mrs. Weasley pulled Harry aside, and they stood just outside on the porch to talk.

“Harry,” she said, smiling softly, “You know we trust your decisions, right?”

“Er, yeah?” He answered, already nervous.

“I just… I know Ginny was hard on you today. But if you trust that boy, then I trust him too. And I’m proud of you for being so accepting, Harry. It takes a very loving person to be able to forgive someone after so much.”

“Oh, uh, thanks Mrs. Weasley.” Harry answered sheepishly.

“You’re all staying for Christmas, aren’t you? What do you think I should bring him? I don’t have time to make him a sweater, it’s too soon, but maybe something smaller, like a hat?”

“You- you’re going to get him something for Christmas?” Harry asked, dumbstruck.

“Well of course I am,” she beamed at him. “He’s the only one here who doesn’t get any contact this Christmas with his family. He needs to feel welcome.”

“Right.” Harry couldn’t stop smiling. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”

She hugged him. “See you in a few days, Harry!” And then she was off, catching up to Ginny and Arthur before the three of them apparated into the night.

When Harry got back to his room that night after a long, hot shower, Ron was just leaving it.

“Hey,” Harry said, confused, “What’s up?”

“Believe it or not,” Ron said, looking awkward but pleased, “He was uh… apologizing to me. Guess he heard some of that stuff Ginny said and felt bad he hadn’t already.”

“ _ Oh,”  _ Harry said, shocked. “Should I give him some space?”

“Nah, he’s fine,” Ron shrugged, “We talked it out. I think he really does regret all that stuff, you know? I mean, I thought so before, but I still really appreciate the apology.”

“What’d he say?”

“Oh, you know. Sorry for being a fuck for all those years, my mother didn’t deserve the shit he talked about her, he was sorry Ginny got abducted in second year, all that. He apologized about Mum a lot actually, she must have really gotten to him.” He shook his head, and then mumbled something that sounded a lot like “as if she needs another kid to knit for.”

Harry grinned. “She gets to a lot of people, I’m sure.”

“Night, Harry.” Ron rolled his eyes and started down the stairs.

“Night Ron.” Harry smiled and opened his bedroom door.

 

+++

 

As Christmas approached, more visitors popped in and out of Shell Cottage, and the weather that was once rainy grew cold enough to leave a light snow over the beach. Just like before, Harry woke up each morning and untangled himself from Draco as quietly as he could. He’d eat breakfast with his friends, he’d go far a long walk in the snow, and then he’d come back and practice occlumency with Draco for a few hours before lunch, or a visitor, or both. After that was over, he’d have a wonderful dinner, read some or attempt to play chess or quidditch with Ron, and then head to bed. He’d fallen asleep every night with only a few inches of space between himself and Draco, and then he’d wake up in the morning and that space would be gone.

Ginny visited almost every day. She and Luna would spend hours and hours together, and without Luna’s company, Draco had resorted to becoming oddly close with Fleur. Harry suspected this was because they could both speak French, and Draco would often attempt to help her cook dinner, which he was terrible at. Harry would sit at the kitchen table and watch, trying his best not to laugh as Fleur masterfully created and Draco spent 45 minutes trying to chop vegetables into evenly-sized pieces. 

Hermione and Ron were often nowhere to be found, and Harry knew they were off together, usually picking up shells on the beach or wandering through the garden in the snow. Their visitors included almost all of the Weasleys and then some. Fred and George came one evening that week with Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan in tow, and they put on Potterwatch in the living room, where they interviewed Harry “to bring hope to the people.” Harry hoped it worked. They were even visited, very briefly one morning, by Luna’s father, who was overjoyed to see his daughter even though he was too paranoid of being captured to stay for long.

Mrs. Weasley brought them salepapers from the stores that were still open in Diagon Alley, so they could all mail-order any Christmas presents they hoped to buy under her name. Harry had a  _ very  _ difficult time choosing a gift for Draco, but eventually he settled on something he hoped was alright. Hermione, Ron, Luna, and the Weasleys were much easier to shop for, however, and Harry was confident they’d like what he got them. On Christmas Eve, the whole group gathered together to trim the tree, and Luna showed them how to make their own ornaments. Harry and Draco made a popcorn garland together, and Hermione read them all old Christmas fables from books in the attic. They stayed up late decorating and drinking eggnog, and by the time Harry finally trudged upstairs to the bedroom, he was exhausted, but happy and warm. 

Draco was already asleep in bed by the time Harry got there. Harry realized at once that not going to bed earlier had been a terrible idea, because Draco was sprawled across the bed and there was no room for Harry to leave between them. 

Holding his breath, Harry shifted his legs under the comforter, hoping he wasn’t stealing any of the warmth pooled underneath it. He slowly, carefully laid down, and pulled the blanket back over himself. Draco mumbled and moved in his sleep, resting one hand on Harry’s chest and snuggling closer to his side.

They’d woken up like this before, Draco’s arm draped across Harry’s chest and his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. Harry sighed, closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. He could still recognize the lingering scents of pine and peppermint on both of them, the leftovers from a busy Christmas Eve. Underneath that, though, was the musk smell of Draco’s hair, and the faintest scent of eucalyptus and mint that Harry had grown so very fond of. 

Harry took another deep breath. He didn’t want to move too much, didn’t want to risk waking Draco. Right now, all he wanted was to savor this. He was feeling too many things- trepidation and reverence and the loud hammering of his heart, but above all, he felt lucky. He was so, so lucky to be here. How many paths were laid out before him? What were the odds that he would have ended up here, right now, so happy?

So he pulled Draco closer, as gently as he could, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

 

+++

 

Harry woke up cold with the vague feeling that someone was calling his name. Rubbing his eyes, he reached for his glasses before he realized  _ why  _ he was cold- Draco wasn’t in the bed. 

_ Shit.  _ This was the first time he’d slept in and Draco had woken up first. Had they been wrapped up in each others arms? Worse, had Draco realized that’s what had happened every morning they’d woken up here?

“Potter!” someone  _ was  _ calling his name downstairs. Yawning and shoving his worries to the back of his mind, he got dressed in a hurry, but whoever was calling him wasn’t patient enough to wait.

“Potter!” they called again, and Harry could hear them  _ running _ up the stairs. It was a good thing Harry had gotten dressed so quickly, because barely a second had passed before the bedroom door slammed open so hard that it shook the floor. “POTTER!” he shouted.

And there was Draco. Wild-eyed and smiling wider than Harry thought he’d ever seen him. He was wearing a hideous pink sweater and a bottlecap necklace, and his hair was smoothed with gel for the first time since they’d been at Hogwarts, but parted and combed instead of just slicked back. 

“Happy Christmas, Potter, notice anything different?” Draco beamed.

Harry blinked. His first thought was the sweater, and then the hair.

Then it hit him.

“Oh my god,  _ your voice!”  _ Harry shouted.

“I KNOW!” Draco shouted back, still beaming, throwing his hands in the air. Evidently the downstairs crowd was listening in, because Harry could hear laughter at this.

“What- how- but what about-” Harry could barely form a sentence. An unfiltered joy was blooming in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that stupid posh accent.

“It was Hermione’s idea- come downstairs, Potter, it’s nine already- she and Weasley got the potions for me, isn’t it brilliant!?” Draco had grabbed his arm and was dragging him towards the stairs. Harry complied.

Draco seemed to be making up for all the words he hadn’t been able to say, because he was talking at about a mile a minute. “...there were like ten bottles, I think, I don’t know  _ how  _ they managed to get them, Weasley was laughing at me because the red one made my breath smoke. I’m all better now though! The scar is still there but I don’t really care. I mean, I knew I’d be able to talk again eventually but healing the natural way was just taking so  _ long,  _ Potter, thank Merlin it’s over.”

“Well, they definitely outdid me then,” Harry said, grinning, “I don’t think any normal present could measure up.”

“You got me something for Christmas?” Draco looked shocked, but thrilled.

“Of course I did!” Harry answered, mock-offended. “You thought I forgot the person I’ve been bunking with for months?” They were downstairs now, but Draco still had a grip on Harry’s arm, and Harry couldn’t stop staring at him. He just looked  _ so happy,  _ and Harry wanted to drink it all in, store it in his mind forever.

“Harry! Happy Christmas!” Luna called, and Harry turned to look. 

The whole house, it seemed, had been covered in glitter and Christmas paper. An obnoxious amount of people had filled the room, spilling over into the kitchen and the study. All of the Weasleys were there, except Percy, who apparently still hadn’t contacted anyone. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were by the fire, where Molly was attempting to get Ginny to change out of the very glittery crop top she was wearing. She refused, because Luna had knitted it for her.

Charlie and Bill were in the kitchen, talking animatedly over a sketchbook that was full of moving drawings of dragons. Fleur was sitting on the couch with Lupin and Tonks, who looked very pregnant and had changed her hair to red and green plaid for the occasion. Fred, George, Lee and Angelina were in the study, unpacking boxes labeled  _ Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes  _ and grinning at each other, no doubt about to unleash hell.

Ron and Hermione, who were both sitting on pillows on the floor near Luna, waved them over, and Harry and Draco plopped down beside them.

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” Hermione wrapped Harry in a hug.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Harry asked, pointing at the pile of empty potion vials that Draco had clearly just downed. 

“We came up with it super last minute, sorry,” Hermione answered, smiling up at Ron. “Last night after everyone went to sleep, we snuck off to St. Mungo’s in disguises and picked it up. It was very exciting! Hard to convince the healers, though, without a patient with us.”

“We confunded them. It wasn’t hard.” Ron grinned, wrapping an arm around her.

“Thank you  _ so much,  _ I don’t know how I’ll ever repay-”

“I’m starting to regret this already,” Ron said, winking at Harry. “Because Malfoy never shuts up.”

Draco put on a big show of being mock-offended at this, placing a hand on his chest and gasping very loudly, and they all laughed.

Once everyone had settled down a little and Molly had forced plates of breakfast into everyone’s hands and turned on the Celestina Warbeck Christmas album, they started to pass out presents. 

Luna had knitted and handmade very eclectic shirts and jewelry for her friends, including Draco’s pink sweater and bottle caps and Ginny’s sparkling neon colored crop top. She gave Harry a very thick necklace that was strung with sculpted clay beads, painted to look like quidditch equipment. Harry loved it. She’d made Hermione a pair of earrings shaped like books and Ron a thick purple scarf, which looked hideous next to his hair, but he wore it anyway. Harry had gotten Luna a set of oil paints and little canvases that she seemed very happy with.

Lupin had brought everyone homemade chocolates, and Tonks brought them huge, obnoxiously loud Christmas crackers that sprayed glitter and popcorn directly into your face when you opened them, usually containing some sort of gag candy gift.

Fred and George brought expensive waterproof dragonhyde gloves for everyone, which meant business must be booming. After a light lunch they all went out into the snow to hurl snowballs at each other, and their hands stayed delightfully warm and dry. They’d also given their parents a set of matching dress robes, which were gorgeous and sent Molly into a fit of tears.

Fleur and Bill had made everyone handmade crystal ornaments, and Charlie gave each of them bags of dragon based potion ingredients- rare and expensive for the rest of them to buy, but not for Charlie to give them, since he had to collect fallen dragon scales on a daily basis. 

Hermione and Ron had pooled their money to get Harry a very nice new set of leather quidditch pads, and Harry had gotten Hermione a bookmark that unfolded and took your notes for you. He had gotten Ron a broom polishing kit much like the one Hermione had given him years ago that he got so much use out of.

Fred and George had apparently given Lee and Angelina _indoor_ _fireworks,_ and once those were set off no one was able to concentrate. As everyone laughed and dodged the massive Christmas baubles made of light, Harry gave Draco his present. It had been something he’d thought a lot about, but wasn’t sure if Draco would appreciate, so he was holding his breath as Draco unwrapped it. 

“Oh.” he said, starstruck. “ _ Wow,  _ thank you, Potter, I- I  _ love it.” _

It was a small wooden chest that unfolded to reveal a tiny quidditch pitch, with two miniature teams zooming about, playing an actual game. It worked a bit like wizard’s chess, where you could order the teams about, but you could also test out strategies or have them replay actual games so you could watch. Within minutes Draco was flipping through the instruction manual, and had the teams wearing Slytherin green and Gryffindor gold.

“Wanna play, Potter? I’ll have them kick your arse for me!” 

“Oh, yeah, right!” Harry laughed. “I don’t remember you  _ ever  _ beating me in real life.”

“You know,” Draco said thoughtfully, catching Harry’s eye, “This does prove my theory that you still only think of me as a quidditch rival.”

“It really doesn’t,” Harry smiled, “Why would I give my rival a tactical advantage like this?” The tiny Slytherin seeker had already caught the snitch- Draco was better at conducting a team than Harry was.

“Stop being mushy and move over,” Ron said, shoving Harry in the arm, “I’m playing winner next round.”

“You’re on, Weasel. Watch your Keeper.” Draco winked, and Ron grimaced. Draco had gotten Ron a set of wizard’s chess repair tools, which was definitely a provocative gag gift, but Ron appreciated it and would use it all the same- his chess set was battered by now. Harry laughed as the two of them started bickering immediately over the tiny players, and he opened his gift from Ginny- a case for his glasses that polished them while you slept.

Christmas dinner was quite the feast- the table was laden down with dish after dish after dish, rivaled only by the Christmas dinners at Hogwarts. With this many people, there wasn’t even room for all of them to sit at the table, so they were all spread out in different areas, chatting and eating.

Fred and George put on a display for their new product after dinner- a fake branch of mistletoe that would trap two people under it in a cone of light, basically a spotlight for embarrassment, and wouldn’t let them leave until there was a kiss. Hermione thought it was kind of cruel, but mostly everyone saw it as funny, especially after multiple couples got stuck under it. George and Angelina snogged in front of everyone, Bill dipped Fleur when he kissed her, and Draco gave Luna an elegant kiss on the hand, which convinced Hermione it was okay.

Fred and Ginny had just wrestled another Celestina Christmas record away from their mother and were putting on something else when Draco gave Harry his Christmas present.

It was a tiny box, and Harry unwrapped it carefully and pulled out the slip of paper inside.

“Is this… an address?” Harry asked, confused.

“Yes,” Draco answered, clearly nervous, folding his arms. “I thought, um, we could go there together. Later tonight. Just you and I.”

“Oh,” Harry answered, looking at him. “Yeah, sure, where is it?”

“Um, it’s a surprise. I’ll uh, I’ll apparate us there.” He smiled, nervously.

“Okay, when are we leaving?” Harry asked. 

“Honestly we probably don’t want to alarm anyone by leaving, I was thinking around midnight.” He shrugged, nonchalant, but Harry could see his fingers shaking just a tiny bit. “You can meet me by the door.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said. “Why are you so nervous? Is it bad?”

“I’m not nervous!” Draco squeaked, and Harry laughed.

“It’s fine,” Harry grinned, “I trust you!” 

Draco said nothing, but his cheeks flushed.

Just then, a chorus of whoops and whistles interrupted them, and Harry turned to see Ginny and Luna trapped under the mistletoe, where Ginny had Luna’s face in both of her hands, kissing her tenderly. Draco dropped his mug. Ron shouted and threw Christmas paper at them. Fred wolf-whistled, twice, and Mrs. Weasley gasped, “ _ Ginevra!”  _ before Ginny finally pulled away, smiling widely, and Luna blushed. 

Harry, who was shocked but clearly not as shocked as Draco was, kept looking back and forth between Luna’s starstruck eyes and Draco’s shattered mug. There were a ton of questions rattling around Harry’s mind, some of them about Ginny and Luna but more of them about himself. The most prominent thought was that  _ he was sure Draco and Luna had been dating. _

After that, Mr. Weasley shouted something about how he was tired of seeing his children show off like idiots, and pulled down the mistletoe, to Fred and George’s dismay.

Mrs. Weasley, in an attempt to get everyone’s attention away from the mistletoe, passed out her own presents at last, which were, of course, the Weasley sweaters. Harry, curious to see what she’d come up with for Draco, was pleased to see him open a lovely blue scarf with an embroidered letter D on one side. 

He’d wrapped himself up in it immediately and, his eyes watery, ran across the room to hug Mrs. Weasley, who patted his back lovingly and called him dear.

Harry didn’t think anyone’s Christmas gift could possibly outdo that.

They ended their night with all of them singing Christmas carols together, everyone bundled in their Weasley sweaters, warm by the fire and enjoying sweets and eggnog, until slowly, one by one, everyone went to bed.

 

+++

 

Ten minutes before midnight, Harry got up and dressed warmly, excited for whatever it was he and Draco were going to do in wherever it was he was being taken. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he realized he wasn’t the only one still awake- someone who definitely wasn’t Draco was standing in the doorway where the mistletoe had been, waiting.

Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak and slipped it on, careful to check that the person hadn’t noticed him.

It was Fred, waiting in the dark, and it was Lee who he was waiting on.

“Hey,” Lee said, putting his arm around Fred’s shoulders, “What are you doing awake?”

“Waiting on you to get over here,” Fred grinned, grabbing the front of Lee’s shirt and pulling him closer.

“You know you didn’t have to put the mistletoe back up to get me to kiss you,” Lee smiled, and Harry took the opportunity to sneak outside as the two of them kissed passionately, no mind to what was around them.

And as the front door closed silently behind him, Harry wondered how long Lee and Fred had been together. He wasn't _really_ shocked, he was just… curious. He had shared a Quidditch locker room with Fred and George, he’d heard them talk. Fred dating Lee seemed less like a scandal and a lot more like an inevitability- the same sort of thing Harry had thought when Ron and Hermione got together. Maybe, despite what he’d heard the Dursleys say in hateful whispers for years, despite what bullies at his muggle primary school had shouted at kids they didn’t like… maybe this was okay here. Maybe this was _accepted_ here.

And then he remembered Ginny and Luna, and the way his friends and family had reacted to them under the mistletoe. There hadn’t been any name calling, or angry shouting- well, there had been some shouting from Ron, but he would have shouted no matter who Ginny was kissing. All of them had reacted just the same way they’d reacted when George and Angelina had snogged in front of everyone. No one told Ginny she would be the shame of their family, no one ignored her or berated afterwards. Harry actually couldn’t imagine the Weasleys, or any of his friends, acting that way toward anyone.

Which meant if he was going to kiss someone that  _ wasn’t  _ a girl, none of them would think badly of him. He was allowed to kiss whoever he wanted, and his family would still love him just as much.

Harry Potter was possibly attracted to boys. Maybe. And maybe it was okay if he was.

Well, he was definitely attracted to one boy in particular, and several girls in the past. Maybe boys in the past, too? He needed to talk to Ron and Hermione. There wasn’t time to overthink it, because the door had opened again, and Draco was there in his winter clothes and his Weasley scarf.

“Hey,” said Harry, smiling and pulling off the cloak. “Where are we headed?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know Remus/Tonks is a really popular ship, and I'm sorry to those folks who are really into them that they're not together anymore in this fic- it really upset me in the books when we were shown that they were fighting and miserable, and then they fixed their relationship off-page and we had no idea, and then? they died?? I'm a person that needs closure (that, and i totally agreed with harry for calling remus out) so i ended up just... breaking them up amicably? I think they would be happier as friends.
> 
> As always thanks for your comments and kudos, you all really motivate me to write! I’m always ready to yell about this fic on my tumblr if you need to yell, I’m @deluminatorillustrator


	9. Formal Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day!! Shout out to the few people in the comments who guessed where Draco was taking him. ;)

 

When Draco met Harry right outside the front door that night, he was dressed as if he was going to a formal event. Harry almost choked, seeing him. 

Draco had wrapped himself up in that wonderful blue Weasley scarf, his nicest button-up coat, and a pair of boots Harry didn’t think he’d seen before. They made him look taller, as if he wasn’t already a head taller than Harry was. His coat was unbuttoned to reveal a crisp white shirt and dark pants, but the cold night air had him buttoning it back up as he said, “Oh, it’s a surprise. Obviously.” 

Oh god. What? Harry couldn’t remember what question Draco was answering. 

He was too distracted by the way Draco had very meticulously combed and gelled his hair again, not like he had when they were in school, but parted so that it framed his face. It hit Harry again how much longer Draco’s hair had gotten. 

He looked nice.

Shit. Harry hadn’t dressed up at all. He had on jeans, his Christmas jumper and the coat Draco had lent him at the manor. He didn’t even remember if he’d looked in the mirror before he’d come downstairs. He ran a hand anxiously through his hair, as if that would do  _ anything. _

“Potter?” Draco asked, smiling faintly. “You okay? You look panicky. I’m not kidnapping you, you know.”

“I’m fine,” Harry rushed, finally remembering he’d asked Draco where they were going. “Uh, wait. How are we going to get out and come back without setting off the wards?”

Draco began walking down the big sloping hill and Harry followed. “Oh, it’s okay. I’ve been paying attention. The wards only sound the alarm when someone who hasn’t been verified before comes in. How did you think Granger and Weasley walked so far down the beach everyday?”

“To be honest, I didn’t think about it,” Harry admitted, and Draco chuckled.

“In your defense, none of us want to think about what they do when they’re off alone together,” he grinned, and Harry laughed. 

“Gross,” Harry elbowed Draco’s ribs and the two of them kept walking.

The hill continued downward towards the trees, and they walked in comfortable silence. The sound of the crashing waves still surrounded them, and Harry enjoyed the view of the ocean, the moonlight glittering across lapping waves.

Draco stopped suddenly and, distracted, Harry ran right into him.

“Ouch, sorry,” Harry sighed, and Draco shushed him, throwing out his arm to keep Harry from walking forward anymore.

“What is it?” Harry asked, and Draco shushed him again, pointing towards the greenhouse and grabbing Harry’s arm, dragging him into the bushes.

A lamp flickered on in the greenhouse.

Draco held a finger to his lips and gave Harry a significant look, and then crept closer, keeping to the shadows. Harry hoped this wasn’t part of the plan. 

There were two shadows moving together in the greenhouse now, and finally Harry heard their voices.

“What’s  _ wrong,  _ Ginny,  _ please  _ tell me,” Luna’s voice begged, “Is this about earlier?”

“No, it’s not about that,” Ginny sighed, and Harry could hear her sit down on one of the creaky benches inside. “I don’t… I don’t regret that. I don’t want you to think that I do.”

“I don’t regret it either!” Luna was quick to answer, voice tinged with worry.

“It’s just- I can’t- I thought you were going to come back to Hogwarts with me! When we- when I heard they’d found you, I was so relieved. We all were, in the D.A, but-“

“Ginny,” Luna started quietly, and Ginny stood, clearly angry.

“I don’t want an excuse! Don’t start with me about  _ Dumbledore’s secret mission  _ or whatever the fuck Harry has you on about.” She spat, crossing her arms.

“I wasn’t going to!” Luna gasped.

“We needed you! Me and Neville, we have all these kids to look out for, and the escape route was  _ your idea,  _ and we needed your help and all this time you could have come back but you were off with them, doing Merlin knows what-“

“Stop it!” Luna said, taking a step forward. “That’s not how it was!”

Ginny said nothing.

“It was  _ never  _ a choice between you and them,” Luna continued, “You’re all my closest friends. I love all of you so much. And you’re wrong- I couldn’t have just  _ left them  _ and gone back to Hogwarts whenever I wanted. We were all in danger, and I didn’t know if my father had escaped. If I had shown up in Hogsmeade it might have gotten him killed, for all I knew.”

“We’ve been  _ tortured,”  _ Ginny’s voice cracked. “We’ve been starved and beaten and put under the cruciatus curse, we’ve spent days without sleep while we smuggled people out, and-”

“It’s not a competition. I know you were in danger, too.” Luna’s voice was eerily quiet. “But I know you, Ginny. You’re so strong. I knew whatever you had to face, you would take it head on. I knew you’d be okay.”

“We thought you were dead.”

“I-”

“I thought you were dead and then you show up hurt and your new best friend is Draco Fucking Malfoy.” Ginny’s voice was deadly cold.

Harry looked over at Draco, who rolled his eyes.

“Ginny, I’m sorry.”

“I know, that was too far, I shouldn’t have-”

“He is my friend, though.”

“I gathered,” Ginny answered, bitterly. “He’s everyone’s friend now, isn’t he?”

Harry had to hold back a laugh. A few months ago, he would have sounded just like that.

“Yes,” Luna answered, unabashed.  “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, is it?”

“...no.” Ginny’s voice was quieter now.

“Ginny, I wanted to come back just as much as you wanted me back. I missed you so much, and some days, the only thing keeping me going was knowing that you were out there, doing good, believing in me, and I had to live up to that.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I’m not done!” Luna interrupted. “Ginny, when I got hurt… it was my own fault. It was because I did something stupid, and I put all of us in danger. I know you think you have to convince me to come back, but… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go back with them anyway.” Her voice broke, and Luna sat down.

Draco let out a sigh like he’d been expecting this, but was disappointed all the same.

“What?” Ginny asked at last, shocked.

“Ginny, I was. I was  _ possessed. _ ” Luna whispered, so quiet Harry was straining to hear her. “We found something- we found, well, the diadem.”

“ _ What!?”  _ Ginny shouted, “But you’ve been looking for that for years!”

“That was the problem,” Luna continued, “You-Know-Who had found it first, ruined it with dark magic. I knew it wasn’t the same anymore, but I gave in anyway, I couldn’t resist seeing what Ravenclaw could teach me. It took over me. I acted different, and-“

“It’s not your fault,” Ginny grabbed Luna’s hands.

“But I put us all in danger,” Luna sucked in a shaking breath, “I don’t deserve to be a part of this anymore.”

Draco had to physically hold Harry back from jumping up and revealing them.  _ How could Luna think that?  _ No one blamed her for what happened, and they all loved having her with them! She hadn’t even done anything wrong, it was all the horcrux, and Harry ached to tell her this. In Draco’s struggle to shove Harry back down into the shadows, they both missed what Ginny said next, but she was still talking once they were quiet again.

“Luna, why didn’t you tell me?” Ginny asked quietly, kneeling in front of Luna. “You know it happened to me, too. You-Know-Who… all the way back in first year, remember? When I was taken, in the Chamber of Secrets.”

“I… I know but… I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it. I didn’t want to ask.” Her voice was so quiet now that Harry had to strain to hear.

“Luna,” Ginny said, and Harry couldn’t see that she was smiling, but he knew she would be. “It’s me, you know. You can talk about anything with me.” She had Luna’s hands still clasped in hers. “If anyone can help you through this mess, it’s me.”

“Thank you,” Luna sniffed, “I should have said, I should have come to you first. I…” she took a deep breath.

“Let’s go,” Draco whispered, “This is about to become something that isn’t our business.”

“None of it was our business!” Harry whispered back, resisting Draco’s pull on his arm.

“Ginny,” Luna started, her voice shaky, and Draco pulled harder on Harry’s arm. “I have feelings for you.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _

Harry and Draco froze.

“You… you do?” Ginny was reverent, disbelieving.

“Yes. I have for a long time now, and, um, when you… when you kissed me, earlier, I didn’t take it as a joke. I meant it when I kissed you back. I-”

“I like you too!” Ginny leapt from the ground and swept Luna up in a hug. “I was so worried when you said we should talk that this would be some kind of rejection, that you would tell me to back off, I never thought-” she was laughing now, and Luna was laughing with her, “I just- oh, Merlin, Luna, I thought you were going to tell me that the reason you were staying away from Hogwarts after break was to get away from me.”

“If you would have stopped interrupting me, Ginevra, I was going to tell you that I was planning to go back with _you!_ Even before the diadem, the moment I heard your voice on the radio I knew I’d do anything to get back to you. I don’t want to leave the others behind, I really don’t. There are four of them, though, even without me, and only two of you. I don’t think I can let you and Neville face those Death Eaters alone.”

“So, you’re coming back to Hogwarts to be my girlfriend, that’s what you’re saying, right?” Ginny giggled.

“Maybe,” Luna answered, and the two of them leaned in.

“ _ Now  _ let’s get out of here before they start snogging,” Draco whispered, grinning and helping Harry up.

“Fine,” Harry stood up and, turning away, felt a rush of happiness for Luna, planning to make sure that he talked to her before they left. No matter if Ginny made her feel better or not, Harry wanted Luna to know that he’d never blame her. It was probably selfish of him to wish she’d stay on the horcrux hunt with them, but if she wanted to go back to Hogwarts, he would support her in that.

Harry and Draco continued down the slope of the hill until they reached the trees, their backs to the ocean and Shell Cottage.

“You look like you’re thinking very hard about something,” Draco said at last, now that they were far from the greenhouse and it felt safer to speak out loud. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Harry answered, “But yeah, I was just thinking, uh,” he felt stupid admitting it, but it seemed like he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Were you and Luna ever, um, dating at any point?”

“Why?” Draco grinned wickedly, “Worried about our exes getting together and swapping secrets?”

Harry’s mouth fell open and Draco laughed. “Don’t worry, Potter, Luna is far too good for me, not that I was ever interested anyway.”

“But- I thought- you used to  _ kiss her,”  _ he protested, and Draco laughed.

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” Draco asked, but he was looking at Harry with something like fondness, and a warmth was spreading through Harry’s chest that, frankly, should not be allowed. 

There was a pause where Harry, distracted by the expression on Draco’s face, said nothing. 

Draco finally spoke. “No, we weren’t dating. She’s just a very affectionate person, and it rubbed off on me, I guess.” he shrugged. “She and I were both very lonely, at the manor. We were the only people who could comfort each other. It’s not like we were  _ actually  _ kissing anyway. I’ve seen Granger kiss you on the cheek before, and you’re not dating her,”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” Harry admitted, “I was just trying to piece some things together.”

“You should learn to keep your nose in your own business, Potter.”

“Is that why you dragged me into the bushes so we could hear what they were talking about?”

“No!” Draco gasped, “Luna’s my best friend, I’m invested in her well being!”

“Sure you are,” Harry grinned, “And not, you know, a sneaky little prat who just wanted to see what happened!”

“Shut up.”

“So, how long had Luna liked Ginny, anyway?” Harry asked.

“Oh, ages,” Draco answered, “She used to talk about her all the time. Since their third year I think. I would think you’d be more worried about Weasley, though.”

“Ginny? We, er… We broke up a while ago.”

“I knew  _ that,”  _ Draco rolled his eyes. “I just thought you might-” he cut himself off, his voice lowering to an embarrassed mumble. “I just thought you might still have feelings for her. After, you know. Everything.”

“No! I mean, er, no, we’re just friends,” Harry protested, probably too quickly.

“Oh,” Draco answered. He seemed like he was avoiding Harry’s gaze. “And you weren’t worried about… an overlap?”

“Overlap?”

“You know. That Weasley and Luna liked each other when  _ you  _ still liked her.”

“No, I…” Harry didn’t actually have an answer for this. He wasn’t sure when exactly his feelings for Ginny had dissipated, but it had been a while ago. He had other feelings now. 

“No,” Harry answered finally. “They’re both my friends, I don’t care. I’m happy they’re happy.” 

“That’s good of you,” Draco replied seriously. 

He still wasn’t quite looking at Harry, and there was a fluttering in Harry’s chest now. He hoped Draco was asking all these questions for the same reason Harry had been. 

“We’re about to cross the perimeter,” Draco pointed ahead of them, “And then we’ll apparate.”

Harry nodded, and for a moment the two of them were silent. 

Harry could swear that he felt the protective barrier melt away from him as soon as they passed it, and they both took a step further into the trees. 

“Ready?” Draco asked, holding out his hand. Harry nodded and took it.

Draco turned on his heel and the two of them were whisked into darkness. Harry hoped Draco didn’t mind when he intertwined their fingers.

 

+++

 

When the last threads of darkness were whisked away from them, Harry opened his eyes to find himself still hand in hand with Draco, standing atop a snowy hill overlooking a village. Even though it was well past midnight, lights were shimmering all around the town. There seemed to be some kind of party going on in the local chapel, where bells were tolling, and every house was covered in glittering tinsel.

“Where are we?” Harry asked, awestruck.

“This is, ah-” Draco stopped and covered his mouth, embarrassed again. “This is Godric’s Hollow. I heard you and Hermione arguing about it a while back, and I thought, you know, you were right. You should see it.”

“You don’t think it’s dangerous?” Harry asked, unable to keep from smiling. “You don’t think You-Know-Who could pop up at any moment, that he knows I’d come here and is waiting to use this place as a trap?”

“Well, we can never be certain where he is, exactly,” Draco answered loftily, “But I think a few hours can’t hurt, right?”

Harry was sure he was smiling so wide now that his face was going to crack. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much,  _ oh my god, Malfoy,  _ thank you, I-”

“Though I would  _ love _ to hear your no doubt deserved and never ending praises, we should get a move on if we want to see much of anything before we get back. And I need to disguise you.”

“Right,” Harry grinned. “Where to first?”

Draco was busy casting a few spells over the top of Harry’s head, which drifted over him and settled on his shoulders. The spell created a sort of haziness around him that would make people look right past him.

“I thought you wanted to come here to look for some sign Dumbledore left you or something,” Draco teased, “Shouldn’t you be telling me where we’re going?”

“I don’t care,” Harry said honestly. Draco was leading him down the hill now. “After everything, it just seems… stupid. I’ve been wrong about everything I knew about him already, I’m probably wrong about what he left behind for me, too. I don’t want to even think about that tonight.” Harry was too giddy to focus on Dumbledore and the horcruxes, even if he should be thinking about them.

Draco had done this  _ for him.  _ By all accounts, this was unnecessary and dangerous and stupid, and Draco had brought him here anyway, just because he knew Harry wanted to come. Harry was  _ thrilled. _

“If you’re sure,” Draco said quietly. Harry realized Draco hadn’t let go of his hand.

“So, you’ve been here before?” Harry asked in an effort to fill the silence. If he was distracting enough, maybe Draco would  _ keep _ holding his hand.

“Of course,” Draco smiled. “Did you forget you were famous? When I was a child my mother brought me here to see the house.”

“The house?”

“Your house,” Draco answered. “Wait. You didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?”

“Oh Merlin,” Draco gasped, and then gripped tighter on Harry’s hand. “Follow me!” He started off at a run through the snow and Harry followed as fast as he could. 

They passed through several neighborhoods on the edge of town, streets winding serpent-like in and through each other. It was  _ fun,  _ barreling through snow banks and sprinting down side-streets. Finally they reached a grouping of houses with stone walls around their yards, closer to the center of town, and Draco pulled Harry towards one in particular. 

Harry realized at once that it had been camouflaged for muggles. (Was Godric’s Hollow both a muggle and wizard village? Harry wasn’t sure) 

The house transformed the closer they got. What once he had seen as a small cottage changed as they stepped close to the wall, becoming a burnt husk of what a house should be. One of the upstairs rooms looked like it had been blown entirely away, as if a bomb had gone off inside. The rest of the house seemed to spread in shards from that point outward, chunks of wood and brick immobilized in mid-air. It was like someone had hit pause right in the middle of an explosion, and now every particle of dust and shard of broken glass was stuck forever halfway between the house and the ground. That must have been where it happened. It had to be.

Harry felt sick. The rest of the house looked as if it was paused, too- leaves in the garden still piled in reds and browns, the porch decorated with the flickering light of two jack-o-lanterns that should have long since rotted. His eyes kept wandering back toward that hole in the second floor, worried he might see a flash of green light coming from the bedroom or hear his mother scream.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked gently, squeezing Harry’s hand. How long had he been silent, staring at the house before him?

“Yeah,” Harry answered at last. “Just taking it in, I guess.”

Harry couldn’t look away from the destroyed cottage. If it hadn’t been for Voldemort, he might have grown up here. That house was the one in the only pictures he had of his mother and father. That crumbling mess had been whole, that bedroom had existed once as his bedroom, when he was small enough that he rode a broom around his father’s knees. He had lived there once, and he couldn’t remember it.

Draco let him stand in silence for a long time, looking up at the house.

“Potter?” he asked quietly at last. “You should look at this.” He still hadn’t let go of Harry’s hand, but he did now, to point ahead of them on the path. Draco lead Harry to a wrought iron gate in the wall, where there was a plaque on a pedestal. 

 

_ This house, once owned by the late Lily and James Potter, was the site of the only known failure of the killing curse. Harry Potter survived the curse on the 31st of October, 1981, and is still the only known survivor. Potter Cottage was charmed into stasis in its original form, as a testament to the brutality of the war and in remembrance of all those who lost their lives.  _

 

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling something warm finally cracking through the numbness around his heart. The house had left him feeling so alone, so reminiscent about the life he could have had, but this was new, this was something he hadn’t expected.

Knowing it brought others peace- that made the floating shards of the once lovely cottage look sort of beautiful, in a macabre way.

All around the inscription were carvings, wand marks, graffiti in everlasting ink. And every single name signed, every single note, was a vote of encouragement. 

_ We believe you, Harry!  _ Some newer graffiti said, while others said things like  _ Harry Potter Forever!  _ or  _ Don’t give up,  _ or the oldest inscriptions,  _ RIP Lily and James. _

Some were just names, and others were notes, but Harry stayed and strained his eyes to read every single word. Each new note felt like a new voice calling out to him, another person still on his side. Draco stood beside him and read the notes, peacefully silent.

“This is… did you know about this?” Harry asked, finally looking up at Draco. How had he lived his whole life without knowing this was here, waiting for him? He felt like he had a solid wall of love and hope surrounding him.

“Er, let me show you something else, first,” Draco admitted, and Harry followed him a few steps further down the wall, where Draco began to dust the freshly fallen snow off of the stone. 

“Here it is,” he said, pointing to yet another piece of ancient graffiti. It seemed the entire wall was covered in them. Harry would have to be here all night to try and read through them all, but he was interested now in the one Draco had pointed out.

Draco pulled himself up to sit on top of the wall while Harry leaned down to read the graffiti below him.

There, in everlasting ink, was a child’s messy scrawl that read: 

 

_ thank you Harry!! -DM _

 

“Is that  _ you!? _ ” Harry gasped, grinning wildly as he stood back up. 

Draco had his hands shoved deeply in his pockets and seemed to be very interested in something off in the distance. All he did was shrug.

“It is you!” Harry laughed, “You wouldn’t have known otherwise! Malfoy, you’re blushing!” Harry was going to have to tell Ron about this as soon as possible. This was  _ years  _ worth of teasing, this was a treasure that Harry would definitely, undoubtedly come back and visit. With friends. Annually.

Draco was covering his face with his hand now, but Harry could see pink rising in his cheeks nonetheless. 

“I shouldn’t have shown you,” Draco grumbled, and Harry laughed again, reaching for Draco. He pulled his hand down and away from his face, and Draco huffed and turned towards the town square, refusing to look Harry in the eye.

“No, it’s brilliant! I love it!” Harry felt like he was going to lose his mind. This was possibly his new favorite Christmas present. “When did you write it? How old were you? And…  _ why?” _

“I was six,” Draco looked like he was pouting, but he took Harry’s hand anyway and led him towards the center of the street, walking further into town. 

It felt nice, with Draco’s hand in his, and it gave Harry something like hope that Draco had known he’d wanted to hold hands and just gone for it. His hands were warm.

“You forget,” Draco continued, “That every single wizarding family knew about you. The purebloods all considered you our new savior. You  _ survived the killing curse,  _ Potter, it was a big deal. With You-Know-Who supposedly gone, all of his followers thought you’d be the second coming of a great dark lord. So both sides revered you. There were stories about you, children were all told you would be a great wizard.”

“I know that,” Harry rolled his eyes, “But you said thank you.”

“Yes, I did.” Draco wasn’t looking at him.

“Why?” Harry was too stubborn for Draco to get away with not answering.

Draco sighed. “My mother told me it was thanks to you that we were still alive. She was never exactly a Death Eater, but she was married to one. She loved my father, and would rather he stayed out of it after the dark lord was gone, but he didn’t. She told me you were the only thing between him and Azkaban.”

“I always thought he bribed his way out,” Harry admitted, and Draco laughed, but it was hollow.

”He did, mostly,” Draco answered, “But mother always said that You-Know-Who was very close to taking over before that night. If the Death Eaters had gone much farther than they did, or, as she thinks, if he had been encouraged any longer, he would have done things he couldn’t bribe his way out of.”

“Oh,” Harry sighed. 

“Of course, as a child, I didn’t understand. To her, you saved her husband from going down a darker path. To my father, you were the next dark lord, the chosen one. To me, you were just the boy I heard everyone talking about, the boy from the stories.”

“So you wanted to thank me for that?”

The snow crunched lightly under their feet as they walked.

“I thought you were a hero. So, yes.” Draco still looked faintly embarrassed.

“Guess you don’t think that anymore, huh?” Harry teased.

“No, of course not.” Draco smiled. “Now I think you’re just an idiot.”

Harry sighed and draped an arm over his eyes in mock-agony. “My entire life, wasted!” He wailed. “If only Draco Malfoy had a higher opinion of me!”

“You’re such an arse,” Draco shoved Harry away, laughing. This only resulted in a back and forth shoving war that lasted until they reached the square.

“Oh, wait, shit. Look!” he pointed ahead of them, in the center of the square, where a statue was waiting. It was a group of figures sitting together, lightly dusted with freshly fallen snow. As they approached, the figures changed, became more familiar, and Harry realized at once who they were. It was a statue of  _ his parents. _

The bronze Lily and James Potter rested on a bench together, their foreheads barely touching as they looked down lovingly at statue Harry, who was only a swaddled baby.

Harry couldn’t look at it for long. “This is weird. Let’s go,” he said, walking away from the statue and back under the streetlights. 

There was something off putting about the surreal smiles on his parents’ faces, something wrong. Perhaps it was the knowledge that this frozen form was based on a time that came right before his parents were killed, or maybe it was having to look upon a stone version of himself, but either way, Harry wanted to leave. Draco followed, saying nothing.

Music drifted toward them from down the street, and Harry looked around, noticing that though most of the town seemed to be awake, they weren’t in their homes. 

“Is that… a party?” he asked, pointing ahead to the chapel, where colored lights flashed through the windows. There were shadows dancing along the snow, and he could hear chatter and the clinking of glasses as they got closer.

“It’s probably a Yule Ball,” Draco answered, shrugging. He was leading Harry towards what was no doubt their final destination, the graveyard behind the church. He had definitely been listening then, when Harry and Hermione had argued about it, more than once. Draco knew Harry had just wanted to be here to see his parents’ graves.

“A Yule Ball? I thought that was just a Triwizard Tournament thing?”

Draco laughed. “No, it’s an entire wizarding world thing. The only reason Hogwarts didn’t host one every year was because most students went back home for Christmas. I’ve been to several, sometimes my parents would skip a year or two. We hosted one once that I remember, but that was some time ago.”

“The Weasleys never had one,” Harry pointed out, and Draco made a face.

“Well it’s more of an… upper class pureblood sort of party,” Draco admitted quietly. 

Harry laughed. “That’s what I thought,” he said, just as the two of them reached a wrought-iron gate, this one the entrance to the graveyard.

“So,” Draco started, “This is what you wanted to see, isn’t it? Your parents’ graves?” he was looking at Harry in a way that Harry didn’t know how to describe. It wasn’t pity, but he was clearly concerned.

“Yeah,” Harry answered, but now all of the warmth he’d been feeling was gone. He’d been drawn to Godric’s Hollow for this, but now that he was here, he wasn’t sure if he  _ wanted  _ to see his parents’ graves anymore.

Draco opened the gate for him and Harry walked in. 

“Help me look?” he asked quietly, and Draco nodded.

Together the two of them searched, splitting up and calling to each other whenever they found something interesting. 

At one point, Harry found a grave with what was clearly an ancient hallows symbol carved in it, and the two of them wondered if they had been some of the first involved in the search. 

There were many names Harry recognized here. Some from school, some names he’d heard around the Ministry. Were all of these ancient wizarding families? Surely they were. Harry and Draco had even stumbled upon the Dumbledore family plot, where names Harry had seen in Rita Skeeter’s book were carved in the stones before him.

Harry wondered how many times Dumbledore had visited this very graveyard. Had he ever stood at the Potter family plot, feeling as alone as Harry felt now, looking at the Dumbledore graves? He and Dumbledore could have come here together. They’d had such a vital place in common, yet Dumbledore had never mentioned it to him. Why?

Finally, from across the graveyard, Draco said “Potter, come here.” and Harry knew he’d found them.

 

_ The last enemy that shall be defeated is death. _

 

“What do you think that means?” Harry asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper, and Draco shrugged. 

There was a bench at the end of their graves, and Draco sat down, patting the seat beside him to indicate that Harry should join him.

Harry sunk down onto the bench. His chest felt like a hollow cavity.

“They were so young,” he sighed, looking again at the dates on the headstone in front of him.

“Barely older than we are now.” Draco whispered.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a long time, and snow began to fall softly. The two of them leaned into each other in an effort to avoid the cold, and Harry felt a swell of emotion bubbling up in his chest. 

He didn’t want to cry in front of Draco, he really, really didn’t. The longer he sat here, however...

Draco cleared his throat and looked significantly at Harry. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not… I won’t…” he trailed off, but he was staring into Harry’s eyes now, biting his lip. Harry knew what he meant.  _ I won’t judge you.  _

Harry nodded and leaned back into the bench, where Draco draped an arm around him.

Harry wept.

 

+++

 

Draco had only been gone for about two minutes, and Harry had already lost count of the amount of people he had seen popping in and out the Yule Ball. He was still wiping his eyes; he had shed an embarrassing amount of tears in front of someone he’d hoped would never see him cry, and that was before whatever stupid, annoying feelings he was having for him.

There had been several drunken groups, one or two young families, and an unbelievable amount of couples, since Harry had started people-watching. They were all dressed nicely, although they all seemed to be in muggle clothing. Did the wizards who lived here just keep their magical lives a secret? Is that why Lily and James had decided on this little village to hide from Voldemort? Were they mostly muggles he was seeing? If so, how had a pureblood wizarding tradition crossed over- or was it a muggle tradition that they had adapted to?

Harry shivered. It was getting colder now, and he was starting to wonder where Draco had gotten off to. He’d said he was coming right back.

Almost as soon as he’d thought it, Harry caught a glimpse of his white-blonde hair in the distance, reflected with red and blue and green from the Christmas lights strung up on the chapel.

“There you are,” Harry said, standing up. “I thought you’d left me.”

“I would never!” Draco huffed, stepping high to avoid tripping in the new fallen snow. He had something hidden behind his back, Harry saw now. “I was just checking out the scenery. We’ve only been here a little while, you know, and the Yule Ball is still in full swing. We could check it out, if you like. There’s still plenty of time to make it back.”

“Oh,” Harry said, looking at the chapel, “Yeah, I guess we could.” It would certainly take the damper off of the evening. “But could we get away with it?”

“I’m sure You-Know-Who won’t be looking for you  _ in there,”  _ Draco laughed, “But if he is, we’ll be able to spot his awful dancing from a long way off and get out of here.”

Harry choked. “Oh my god, do you think he’s ever danced?” picturing Voldemort himself out on a dance floor was horrifying.

“Oh definitely not.” Draco chuckled.

“You’re right though,” Harry joked, “I’m sure he’s terrible at it.” the two of them grinned at each other, holding back giggles.

“I uh,” Draco admitted, smile turning sheepish. “I actually went to get you these.” he finally pulled his arm out from behind his back, and he was holding a bouquet of white roses and poinsettias. “They’re um. For your mother and father.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, trying very hard not to let Draco hear the crack in his voice. If he cried again tonight it would be the death of him.

Harry placed the flowers gently between the names  _ Lily  _ and  _ James,  _ and thought just for moment that they looked beautiful, resting against snow and stone.

Someone in the distance laughed, and the moment was broken. 

“Yeah, let’s go in. I wanna see it.” Harry said, and Draco smiled.

 

+++

 

The spells that Draco had layered over them when they had first entered the town were still holding up well, so much so that passerby hardly gave the two of them a glance. When they entered the chapel, music and light flooded outward from the doors, but the young man at the coat check didn’t see or hear them pass by.

The whole chapel, though it was small, was packed with townspeople. Almost everyone was clad in reds and greens and whites, dresses twirling and laughter ringing about them. It looked magical, but not in the way that Hogwarts would at Christmas. This place had its own magic, more of a feeling than the actual thing itself.

“Wow,” Harry said, voice hushed, as a man lifted his partner into the air and spun her gleefully. Most of the people here were more than a little tipsy, but it seemed like dance parties were something they were very used to.

“What’s this music? I’ve never heard it before,” Draco mused, standing on tiptoe to look at the band across the room.

Harry could vaguely recognize the tune if he strained, but he hadn’t heard music like this since he’d left the Dursely’s. “I think it’s muggle, actually,” he answered.

Draco hummed thoughtfully. “Would you like to get drinks?” he looked down and smiled at Harry, who’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Yeah,” he answered without thinking, and Draco took his hand to lead him across the floor. As he was dragged through the sea of people, Harry could only think of that muggle town they’d all visited back when Draco and Luna had first joined them, and how Draco had wriggled his hand out of Harry’s grasp at the slightest touch. Back then, though, taking Draco’s hand hadn’t meant anything to Harry. Tonight he could feel the warmth of Draco’s palm flushed right against his, and every brush of their fingers had been like electricity crackling up Harry’s arm.

Tonight when Draco took Harry’s hand, Harry thought of comfort sitting next to him at his parents’ graves, of apparating together with their fingers intertwined, of the looks they’d shared across the room from each other at Christmas lunch. He thought of the tent, of building fires and sleeping in the same room, of Draco waking him from nightmares and pressing a cool towel to his forehead. He thought of golden script glowing in the dark bedroom, of looking into Draco’s eyes so closely that their faces were nearly touching. He thought of the two of them laughing, of chess games and competitive glares and how many stupid items Draco had thrown at him. He thought of Draco carrying him when he’d fainted, Draco laying flush against him at the Ministry in the love room, the heavy smell of love potion surrounding them. He thought of the connection they’d lain down together in Harry’s mind, how Draco had held his hand and walked him through every trauma, and faced the end alone, all for Harry.

He thought of that first night, Draco much paler than he was now, sickly and with those bags under his eyes. He thought of blood staining that white blonde-hair, his hand crushing Harry’s on the floor of the cave.

Harry thought with new context about that night when Draco had taken a knife to the throat.

Draco had poured him a drink, some kind of punch in a glass flute. Harry watched him swirl it around like it was a glass of wine. Pretentious, but probably something he was used to doing at these kind of parties _ \- it was cute.  _ He took a sip, and it stained his lips red very faintly for a moment. 

Draco had never dated Luna. Never been interested in her that way.

Maybe. Maybe he had been interested in...

Harry took a deep breath. 

“Wanna dance?”

Draco spluttered. “Wha- You? Dance?”

“Very funny, Malfoy.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Last time we were at a Yule Ball, I watched you make a fool out of yourself, remember?” Draco was teasing him, one corner of his mouth already pulling upward.

“But  _ you  _ can dance, can’t you?” Harry asked.

“Well, I- is that supposed to be a challenge?”

“Fleur said you could waltz,” Harry added, unabashed. He was so glad he had waited to bring that up until now.

“I can waltz.”

“Then prove it.”

“I don’t have to  _ prove  _ anything,” Draco replied scathingly. “You should believe me. I know how to dance.”

“Then show me how. Come on! It’ll be fun.” Harry couldn’t stop his wide smile now, even if it was giving him away.

“Fine,” Draco sighed, “But I lead.”

“I don’t know the difference,” Harry shrugged.

“Oh, I know,” Draco sighed again.

They both put their drinks down, but Draco didn’t move towards the dance floor.

“Are you coming?”

“I’m supposed to lead you out there, Potter. We learned this fourth year, it hasn’t been  _ that  _ long ago.”

“We didn’t learn this,” Harry laughed, and Draco rolled his eyes, nothing but proper movements now. He took Harry’s hand and guided him to the right standing position, so that both of them were standing side by side.

“ _ Now  _ we go out. Walk in time to the music.”

“Oh my god,” Harry laughed as Draco lead them forward. “You were serious about this, weren’t you?”

“I took lessons,” Draco replied through clenched teeth.

“Oh my god?” Harry had to keep himself from cackling. Draco bowed to him with one arm behind his back. “Do I have to bow too?”

“Yes,” Draco sighed. Harry suspected Draco was losing his patience, but that would only make it more fun.

Harry bowed. “Now what?”

“Now I take your hand, like this.” Draco stepped forward and took one of Harry’s hands in his, and then positioned the other. “You leave that hand on my shoulder. My hand goes on your back, here.”

Harry hoped Draco hadn’t felt him shudder when his hand trailed up Harry’s spine to rest between his shoulder blades. If he had noticed, he definitely hadn’t shown it- Draco Malfoy was all business now, and that business was a proper dance.

Their chests were flush against each other. “Now,” Draco said, “You’re going to have to follow what I do. Don’t look at your feet,” he commanded as Harry snapped his head back up.

“Got it. Then what?”

“I’m going to show you the steps, slowly, and we turn in place while we do that.”

“Okay,” Harry answered. He was going to screw this up.

He tried his best to follow Draco’s steps as they turned very slowly, one step at a time.

“Now I’m going to dip you. Just slightly,” Draco said.

“You’re going to what now?”

Draco leaned, and took Harry with him. 

“Oh, uh, okay.”

“You aren’t terrible at it, considering,” Draco said, turning them in a circle again. “Just try not to step on my toes, please.”

“I wasn’t stepping on your toes!” Harry gasped.

“Now we dip again,” Draco said, and it wasn’t enough warning, so Harry was a second off.

“Sorry,” he cringed.

“It’s fine, you just have to remember it’s the same amount of steps,” Draco said.

“How- what-”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Okay, here’s the harder part.”

“This wasn’t the hard part!?”

Draco took a step back, taking both of Harry’s hands in his, and then pulled Harry back toward him, turning so that Harry’s back was to his chest, where he looked down at him.

“Just follow me,” Draco smiled. Harry was starting to panic. “We spin and then start again.”

“Spin and start again,” Harry repeated numbly. Draco spun him, and Harry almost tripped.

Draco laughed. “Come on, that wasn’t awful. You can do it.”

“I really don’t think I can,” Harry admitted. What had started as him teasing Draco had flipped very, very quickly.

They slowly spun again, and dipped, and spun again, just like the first time. Draco was going slowly, but Harry was struggling to keep up. He could tell Draco was trying his best not to crack a smile, but there it was anyway.

This time, after they spun and ended back-to-chest once more, Draco was smiling widely at him. “Okay, a few more times and then I’ll lift you up,”

“Lift me up!?” Harry gasped, and Draco laughed so hard that he stooped and rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, giggling into his collarbone.

“What makes you think you can lift me up?” Harry choked out, not amused whatsoever.

“I’ve-” Draco started, still giggling. “Merlin, your face! I’ve done it before!”

“You know, it’s getting pretty late, maybe we should head back,” Harry suggested. This was going to end so badly. He knew it.

“No wait!” Draco protested. “Let me try just one time, please, I know you’ll get it!”

“All right, fine.” Harry was skeptical, but Draco just looked so  _ excited  _ that he didn’t really want to say no.

They danced through the steps twice more, and Harry started to notice the crowd thinning. He wasn’t sure what time it was now, but they’d gotten here well after midnight. As the two of them twirled around each other, Harry focused and began to pick up the steps, though he was nowhere near as light and graceful on his feet as Draco was.

On the last step of their dance, Draco’s arms left Harry abruptly, and then his hands were on Harry’s waist. “Ready?” Draco smiled.

Harry nodded, and then Draco lifted him up, almost effortlessly, into the air. His hands were tight on Harry’s sides, and Harry instinctively grabbed Draco’s shoulders in midair.

“You’d think someone so good at flying wouldn’t be so nervous about being a few feet off the ground,” Draco said quietly as he lowered Harry down again. He felt like he couldn’t breathe- was it just him, or were the lights dimming? Could Draco hear how fast and hard his heart was beating?

“I trust my broom to hold me up a little better than you, sorry,” Harry said. He felt like he was on autopilot, the words coming out of his mouth disjointed from what he was feeling. Draco pulled him close again so that they were chest to chest once more.

“It’s… it’s slower?” Harry said, looking around. The music had slowed and the lights had dimmed, and suddenly it seemed as if the ball was ending. The guitarist was packing up his things now, and only the woman at the piano was still playing. Almost everyone was gone now, and Harry and Draco were among the last twirling slowly on the dance floor.

“How very bright of you to notice,” Draco said, but his voice was low and there was no harshness behind the words.

Harry looked up and caught him staring. Draco’s eyes were searching his face like he was trying to memorize the moment around him.

“We uh, we probably don’t need to waltz for this one,” Harry suggested, and Draco responded only with a numb nod. Harry’s hands were still on Draco’s shoulders, and Draco’s arms were still around his waist.

“Potter,” Draco whispered, “There’s something I need to say to you.”

“What?” Harry was looking at his eyes, but Draco seemed unable to look back, staring at a point near Harry’s collarbone as the two of them slowly swayed in place. The colored lights outside the chapel windows were the only lights on now, and they cast flickering rainbows across his cheeks and lit up his grey eyes.

“I’ve been meaning to say it,” Draco swallowed, “For a while now, I, I kept putting it off. I talked to Luna and Weasley and Granger first, and then I talked to more Weasleys and-”

“ _ What? _ ” Harry asked. Had Draco talked to  _ everyone  _ about him?

“I’m sorry.” Draco said breathlessly.  _ Oh.  _ “I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done to you, to Weasley and Granger, to everyone. All these years I was so horrible, and I’ve been trying really hard to make up for it but-”

“Stop,” Harry said, and Draco looked up in alarm, finally catching Harry’s eye. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“I- I don’t?”

“I forgave you a while ago,” Harry was beaming. “And I may have started, like, at least forty percent of our fights anyway.”

“I don’t think so, when you met me I started things off by insulting your only friend, I just wanted to say-”

“Shut up,” Harry grinned. “I’m sorry too.”

“You’re sorry too,” Draco said, numb. 

“Yes,” Harry wanted to lean in  _ so badly,  _ but he wasn’t sure he could force his body to do much more than the light swaying that was already happening. It was a miracle Harry could get his stupid mouth to work right.

“You… you forgave me? A while ago?” Draco asked, and it seemed, almost unconsciously, that he had reached up to cup Harry’s cheek in one hand.

“Yes,” Harry repeated, breathless.

There was a beat where nothing happened, or it felt like no one moved, but they were closer together anyway, with Draco’s forehead touching Harry’s now and their eyes meeting.

“And you forgave me too?” Harry asked, voice barely audible.

“There was never anything to forgive,” Draco sighed. His other hand had snaked around Harry’s back again, and two of them stood, unmoving.

The song ended.

The pianist closed the lid of the piano with a snap, and Harry and Draco still hadn’t moved. Harry was busy, committing to memory the flecks of blue and green in Draco’s grey eyes, the way the soft light fell across his cheeks.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry registered that they were the last two people in the chapel. Everyone had gone, and if they didn’t leave, someone was going to lock them in here.

“We should go,” Harry said, not looking away from Draco’s eyes.

“We should,” Draco agreed. His thumb dragged across Harry’s cheek.

The lights outside flickered off, and they finally broke away from each other. Every inch of Harry’s body was burning, he felt like everywhere Draco had touched him had left a permanent scar, a fire that would never, ever go out.

Even as they walked side by side out of the chapel and down the street, Harry couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him. There was no way this could be dismissed as something platonic, there was no way he could pretend the hammering in his chest wasn’t there, not anymore. It had probably been there all along, maybe even before Draco had joined their horcrux hunt, and Harry had been ignoring it. He couldn’t even  _ try  _ to ignore it anymore.

The crunching snow under their feet was the only sound as the two of them walked slowly away from Godric’s Hollow, and Harry was wrapped in his own thoughts.

He had cared about Draco this entire time. He had worried when he was injured, and he had been grateful and touched when Draco had taken care of him, and he had been jealous of Luna like some kind of idiot.

Now what was he going to  _ do _ about it? 

And oh god, what was he going to tell Ron and Hermione? Not only had he come to the realization that he liked boys tonight, but also that Draco Freaking Malfoy was the boy he liked. It seemed stupidly obvious looking back but- oh no. What if Hermione and Ron already knew? How obvious had he been, exactly?

“Potter.”

“What?” Harry asked, looking up at Draco. Hopefully he wasn’t able to read Harry’s inner panic.

“Huh?” Draco responded. He looked about as lost as Harry felt.

“You called my name?”

“No, I didn’t say anything.”

“But I heard-”

“Potter.”

Harry whirled about, looking for the source of the sound.

“Wait,” Draco said, squinting. There in the distance was a tiny, frail old woman, hobbling toward them in the dark.

“Did you call my name?” Harry asked, speaking up.

Draco grabbed his arm fiercely, “Wait, she shouldn’t be able to see-”

“Potter?” The old woman asked, limping closer.

“Yeah?” Harry answered, unthinking.

“Oh no, no, we have to go,” Draco whispered, pulling hard on Harry’s arm.

“She looks like she needs help,” Harry whispered back, looking up at him.

As soon as he looked away from her, it happened. With a horrifying crunching sound, the old woman’s body collapsed in front of them. 

Draco screamed. 

The jaw of the woman’s body broke with a solid  _ crack,  _ and from her mouth came the enormous body of a snake, slithering out into the snow and bringing blood and bile with it.

“Run!” Draco screeched, pulling hard on Harry’s arm. 

The two of them sprinted away, back towards town, only slowed by the thick snow beneath them. The snake, however, was catching up, spitting and hissing as she glided along the top layer of snow effortlessly. A horrible dark trail stained the ground behind her as she opened her wide mouth, ready to strike. 

Harry tossed curses over his shoulder, barely daring to look back as he ran, and then Draco screamed again, collapsing onto the street. Lights began to click on in the houses around them.

Draco was clutching his left arm, breathing in through his teeth. “He knows!” he said, voice breaking. “He knows!”

“Come on, Draco, we have to go!” Harry shouted. He threw another curse toward Nagini, who was blasted backward with the force of it, body writhing in midair.

Harry grabbed the back of Draco’s coat just as he heard a loud  _ pop. _

Gliding downward toward them from the night sky, cloaked in black and red eyes shining, was Voldemort.

Draco and Harry screamed at the same time he did, and with another pop, they vanished.

They landed on their feet somewhere Harry barely had time to recognize, dragging Draco along behind him for only a moment before they apparated again, and then again.

Still unsure that they’d lost him, the two of them kept running, panting hard, through a forest, and then a snowy plane, and then a village.

With one last pop, the two of them arrived on the beach.

Draco collapsed, sobbing, onto the sand, but Harry heaved him up.

“Come on, we can’t stop, we have to get inside the barrier!” he half dragged, half carried Draco toward Shell Cottage.

“He fucking knows, he knows I’m with you, oh my god he-”

Harry felt the wash of magic over him as he crossed the edge of the barrier, dropping to his knees with Draco right beside him.

“We made it,” he breathed, “We’re fine, he can’t see us here,”

“No, no, no,” Draco sobbed, still clutching his left arm. “He’s calling all of them, he knows I’m with you now, he’s going to send all of them after us,”

“He already knew,” Harry said, trying to help Draco up. They had to get inside.

“Not like this,” Draco cried, “He knew I’d helped you escape. He considered me a traitor already, but this is worse, this is considered  _ fighting against him,  _ this is-” Draco was breathing too fast, harsh and ragged, and Harry pulled him over the threshold and then wrapped him in a hug, hoping both to help him and to stifle the noise. Draco sobbed into his shoulder.

“Upstairs,” Harry whispered, hoping the door opening and closing at this hour hadn’t woken anyone up.

The two of them rushed toward their shared bedroom, still unable to catch their breath. Harry pulled the door open and ushered Draco in, and the two of them practically fell onto the bed.

“It’s fine,” Harry said, “He can’t find us, it’s fine.”

“But he did find us!” Draco hissed. “He had that  _ thing  _ waiting for us, Granger was right, we never should have gone there!”

“Maybe not,” Harry sighed, “But we’re okay, we got away, that’s all that matters!”

Draco sat up and pulled Harry into a fierce embrace, his face buried in Harry’s neck.

“What if he had gotten to you? It would have been my fault,” Draco sobbed.

“No it wouldn’t have,” Harry said. He threaded his fingers into Draco’s hair and held him there, the two of them just breathing for a long time.

“You’re still hyperventilating,” Harry said, resting his head on top of Draco’s now. “Come on, breathe slower.”

“I can’t.” 

“Just try, come on. Just like when we meditate.”

“This isn’t-”

“Then let’s do that,” Harry said, “We can meditate and use the connection and that will help you calm down.”

Draco pulled away just a little to look at him. “You don’t need to do that for me,” he said. His eyes were rimmed red and his jaw was clenched.

“It’s not just for you,” Harry said. His heart was still racing, too, and he could feel, like waves beating against the shore in a storm, the anger in the back of his mind coming from Voldemort’s side of the connection.

Draco was quiet.

“Come on. It’s for me, too,” Harry admitted. 

They had meditated together many times, and practiced occlumency and legilimency together, but ever since that first time, they had never actively tried to use their connection. It had been there, in their minds, ready to be accessed, but they just hadn’t felt the need to. Or perhaps, Harry thought to himself, it had been too intimate for them to think about. Sharing dreams was one thing, but stepping into each other’s minds again was something else.

“Okay,” Draco said at last. “We can try it.”

They changed back into their pajamas, still thawing out from the cold, and each laid down on their sides, facing each other. Harry had pulled out all the extra blankets he could find.

“Ready?” he asked, heart thrumming.

“Yes,” Draco responded, and he took both of Harry’s hands in his.

“Let’s go.”

The two of them breathed steadily. It took a lot more of concentration this time, with Harry’s heart still hammering and Draco’s breathing still far too fast.

Harry heard the grandfather clock downstairs strike four.

Slowly, slowly, the two of them descended into their connection. Harry became less aware of everything physical, only focused on their breathing. This was usually so easy.

It felt like everything got darker, and then, on the edge of his thoughts, Harry could feel the presence of someone else. Just like he was laying next to him physically, Draco was laying next to him mentally. Harry felt Draco’s thumb slide across his knuckles.

_ You okay?  _ Harry asked, not speaking aloud.

_ I’m okay. You?  _ Draco replied.

_ I’m good.  _ Harry answered.

They kept breathing.

 

This time, Harry thought, when they woke up and they were tangled together, maybe neither one of them would pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slow song I imagine the pianist was playing was Open Arms by Journey. 
> 
> If you'd ever like to talk about this fic with me on tumblr, I'm @deluminatorillustrator!
> 
> Thanks again for all of your lovely comments and kudos, you all keep me going! And to those of you who are aching for that first kiss: I'm so sorry lol. I promise when we get there it'll be worth it!!!


	10. Like Waking From a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for canon-typical violence, mention of/use of alcohol, and the mere existence of fenrir greyback in this world. seriously i'm terrified of him g o d but that's why i gotta write about him i guess

Harry realized he was dreaming in one of Draco’s memories before the darkness had even faded away completely. He would rather still be in bed, Draco’s hands in his, but he was in the Hogwarts dungeons instead.

Harry could hear laughter and shouting nearby, and soon enough, there he was- Draco, dressed in his Hogwarts robes, coming down the stairs. He was alone, and looked stressed and tired, and Harry wondered what had happened.

“Dragon’s blood,” the Dream-Draco sighed, and the wall behind Harry slid open, revealing the Slytherin common room, the source of the noise.

“Dracooooo!” came a high-pitched shriek, and Harry turned to see Pansy Parkinson, dressed in frilly pink pajamas and jumping up from one of the leather couches. “I haven’t seen you  _ all day,  _ come hang out with us!”

“I’m going to bed,” Draco answered without looking at her. This had to be sixth year. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who were by the fire, laughing, didn’t seem to care that Draco wasn’t staying. The common room was packed with people, loud, echoing, and reeking of firewhiskey.

“But Draco, darling,  _ it’s Friday,  _ all of us are playing truth or dare and spin the bottle! At least stay for a few turns!” Harry realized that Pansy had been drinking. Her cheeks were flushed, and a few of her words had slurred.

Blaize Zabini was beside her now, raising a glass. “Come on,  _ darling,”  _ he said mockingly, raising an eyebrow at Draco. “One firewhiskey?”

Why was this memory so much hazier than usual? Harry didn’t feel like he  _ was  _ Draco in this dream. Unlike all the others, he felt some kind of disconnect.

And then- oh.

Draco grabbed the bottle, chugging down far more than he should have in one swallow.

Pansy cheered, and Blaise, who seemed shocked and pleased, gave Draco a slow clap.

“Well, look who’s finally decided to join the party!” Crabbe laughed, ambling up behind him from the couch. Crabbe couldn’t even walk straight. He tossed an arm over Draco’s shoulder.

“This is it. One hour. That’s all you get.”

“But Draaaacooooo,” Pansy whined.

“Two turns on each game or we tie you to the chair!” Blaise crowed, and a loud group of girls behind him cheered.

The noise seemed to ring around them in the wrong way. This memory was tinted in alcohol and something else. Something was wrong here.

Harry had been tipsy before at Gryffindor after-quidditch-match parties, and he’d known some of the seventh years to stay up late and get drunk after the younger kids had gone to bed. He wasn’t one to judge, but something about this party rubbed him the wrong way. It was just the sixth and seventh years, and if Harry’s blurry look at the clock was right, it was nearly two in the morning. Where had Draco been, that he’d gotten back so late? If it had been one of the days he’d worked on the vanishing cabinet, surely Harry would remember. He had been watching him then.

“Fine,” Draco answered, uncaring. He looked numb, wrong. This wasn’t the Draco that Harry knew now. This was a Draco burdened and beaten down by his duties to Voldemort. 

Harry ached to reach out to him, but he couldn’t, not here.

Knowing that Draco was better off now would have to do while the dream lasted.

The other Slytherins cheered and lead Draco over to the couch, where all of them were sitting in a circle. The dream began to tilt into a big blur after this. Harry watched as the seventh year Slytherins faded until they were just blank, laughing figures in the background.

Crabbe and Goyle had put on a record, but the music was stilted and wrong, looping the same notes over and over.

Draco had pulled a bottle of something stronger out from under one of the couches, and seemed fully intent on forgetting this night as it was happening, taking shot after shot of some clear liquid in a red bottle.

Harry watched the clock slide from two to four, and then to five, the memory skipping time around him. Now the Slytherins were plenty drunk, all of them giggling and shouting except for Draco, who’s eyes were unfocused. He was slumped on the couch, silent and moody. 

The rest of the party raged on around them. Everyone was blurry now except for three figures; Pansy, Blaise, and Theodore Nott.

Harry was beginning to wish that Dream-Draco would just fall asleep, so the memory would end. He looked exhausted, and the liquor was not helping. The memory was starting to look close to that hazy, blocked out section that Harry remembered seeing from Slughorn.

“Spin it, spin it!” Blaise and Pansy were shouting. There were others, too, but Harry couldn’t see them.

The memory began to vibrate along the edges, so to Harry, it looked as if the room was shaking itself apart.

Draco leaned forward and took the now empty red bottle in his hand, spinning it on the table. It stopped quickly, pointing towards a figure that was blurry- Crabbe? Goyle? It had to be one of them.

“Gross!” Blaise laughed. The blurred figure was moving- wait- there were two of them.

“Well  _ obviously  _ not, Crabbe is  _ occupied,”  _ Draco rolled his eyes and slurred the last word.

“Will you two meatheads cut it out!” Theo laughed, tossing an empty bottle in their direction.

Either Crabbe or Goyle, Harry didn’t know which, grunted angrily and lobbed the bottle back at him, where it shattered on the floor.

“Spin agaiiiiin baby!” Pansy yelled, jumping from the couch and vanishing the broken glass at her feet.

The bottle landed on Theo this time, and Pansy cackled ferociously.

“No thanks,” Draco said, monotone. Everyone laughed. They all started to fade, and Harry began to panic.  _ It couldn’t be.  _ He had thought, at first, that the memory felt wrong because Draco had been drunk. 

“You know the rules Draco!” Blaise called, his voice warbling as his body faded away.

“Seven minutes!” Pansy giggled, so warped Harry could hardly hear.

Theo stood up.

Harry rushed to look for a way out, but everything was crumbling around him. Everything except Draco and Theodore Nott.

“C’mon, Malfoy,” Theo grinned. “It won’t be  _ that bad,” _

“Besides, we all know Draco would rather it be you than one of the girls!” Someone said, voice so disfigured now that Harry didn’t know who said it.

There were lewd comments as Draco stood up, too, but Harry only heard bits and pieces, too busy scrambling backwards.

Once Draco and Theo stepped into the  _ tiny  _ wardrobe together, though, Harry had nowhere else to go. The entire world vanished into smoke around him, and the walls closed in, pushing Harry right into the wardrobe with them. Draco and Theo were practically chest to chest, and Harry, knowing exactly why this memory was hazy, tried to force himself to wake up.

Regardless of what was about to happen,  _ Draco wouldn’t want him to see it. _ If the connection had really brought Harry into Draco’s mind, then it was possible that Draco was shielding himself from this particular memory, too.

But Harry couldn’t pull away. He couldn’t open his eyes. He was helpless to do anything but watch as Theo leaned forward, one arm resting against the wall of the wardrobe behind Draco. Draco seemed to pull inward on himself, not really pulling away from Theo, but definitely not leaning in.

“We don’t  _ actually  _ have to snog or anything, you know,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. He was taller than Draco, gangly and thin, but he wasn’t bad looking.

“I know,” Draco answered, sighing, his eyes still looking far too blank for Harry’s taste. He didn’t care.  _ Why didn’t he care? _

“We should at least make Pansy think we are, though,” Theo grinned, leaning forward so he could slam his arm against the wall above Draco’s head. Someone outside laughed. “Think that’s convincing enough that I tackled you?”

“Sure,” Draco drawled, rolling his eyes.

“Merlin, Malfoy. What’s got you in such a mood?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on. I know you don’t wanna snog me, I’m not insulted. But I’m not stupid, either. You’ve been missing all night, where were you?”

“Why do you think that’s your business?” Draco snapped, turning on him at once.

Theo put his hands up in what tiny space he could, shrugging his surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you alone about it. But friends are allowed to worry about other friends, you know.”

“Are we friends?” Draco asked scathingly.

“I don’t know,” Theo seemed like he was joking, but his voice had gone cold. “If we were friends, maybe you’d be a little more grateful that I didn’t jump at the chance to shove you in here with Greengrass or Parkinson instead of giving you an out.”

They just stared at each other for a long time.

“Come on. You’ll at least help me make Pansy jealous, right?” Theo asked, sighing. 

“What do you see in her, even?” Draco snorted.

“I don’t know, she’s pretty and she’s nice to me? Is there more I should want?”

“Maybe a brain, or, I don’t know-”

“A dick?” Theo grinned wide and Draco, without a second of hesitation, slammed him against the wall.

Someone outside whooped.

“If you ever. If you  _ ever  _ say that out loud again I swear to Merlin I’ll-” Draco’s hands were caught in the front of Theo’s shirt, pulling so hard on his collar that he was choking.

“Alright, okay!”

Draco let go of him hard enough to shove him into the wall another time.

“Shit, Malfoy,” Theo sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

“Why  _ the fuck _ would you say that to me?” Draco hissed, looking furious.

“Because  _ I know _ , you arse.” Theo rolled his eyes. “And fuck you, by the way. I saw how you were acting when-”

The swirling memory fogged up again, and Harry had missed something, something important. He shouldn’t want to know, especially if Draco didn’t want him to see, but-

“You  _ swear?”  _ Draco was asking. They were still in the wardrobe, but neither of them were at each other’s throats anymore. Harry must have missed a significant chunk of time.

“Of course, why would I want to do this otherwise?” Theo scoffed.

“Fine,” Draco scowled. “I’ll do it.”

“Yes, thank you!” Theo beamed. He looked down at the watch on his wrist. “You ready? We’ve got like thirty seconds.”

“Yes? Just fucking do it already,” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Great,” Theo smiled, and in the time it took Draco to blink, Theo was on him.

Harry  _ really _ didn’t want to see this, but closing his eyes didn’t shield him here.

Draco stood, rigid, his eyes still open, while Theo kissed him. He barely reacted as Theo’s hands traveled up and down his sides, tangled in his hair. 

_ Wake up wake up wake up- _

And then Draco closed his eyes, melted into the kiss. His shoulders lost their tension and Harry could see the sides of his mouth curl upwards in what was maybe a smile. This was so much worse. Oh, god this was worse.

Harry could feel a rage and a jealousy in his chest stronger than he’d ever felt before. Like a blinding, white hot fire, it consumed him.

Why couldn’t he just  _ wake up? _

And then, with a shriek and a chorus of laughter, the wardrobe door fell open. Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle stood laughing around them as Draco and Theo untangled themselves on the floor.

“Oh my  _ god,  _ I’m dying!” Blaise choked, heaving with laughter.

“That was disgusting,” Crabbe added, but he was helping Draco up off the floor.

“You,” Pansy let out between giggles. “Looked. Just like.” She collapsed onto a nearby chair. “Potter and the Weasley girl!”

At this, Theo stood up and flopped on Pansy’s lap. “Oh, I can do way better than him, honey,” he crooned, and the others cackled.

Draco had turned deathly pale, watching as Theo tried and failed to get Pansy to kiss him next.

“Potter and Weasley,” he repeated under his breath.

“Aww, Draco, don’t take it so hard! Is that why you’ve been gone all day?” Blaise teased, “Couldn’t stand the sight of them snogging in the halls?”

_ Oh no. _

“You fuck, you told them!” Draco pounced on Theo, who shrieked and leapt away from Pansy, but not before Draco had given him a bloody nose.

“I didn’t, I swear, I didn’t say anything!” Theo begged, laughing through blood and backing toward the couch.

“I’ll kill you!” Draco shouted, and Blaise, still laughing, jumped between them.

“Come now, young master Malfoy,” he grinned. “We didn’t need Theo to tell us to  _ know,  _ we were just being kind and letting you mope!”

Draco paled even further.

Pansy shrieked with laughter again, reaching for another bottle, and Blaise, distracted, turned to grab a glass. Draco fled toward the dorms at once.

“No, don’t leave, darling!” Theo shouted after him. Draco sprinted up the stairs and flung himself down on his four-poster bed. 

He was crying.

Wait- he wasn’t crying. But  _ someone- _

Harry woke up suddenly, and beside him, whimpering and mumbling in his sleep, was Draco. He was very obviously having a nightmare, and without thinking, Harry leaned over and shook him awake.

“Draco,” he said, tugging at the other boy’s shoulder. “Draco, wake up.”

Draco’s eyes shot open and he bolted upright, breathing hard.

“That- that was-”

“You were having a nightmare,” Harry whispered, watching Draco’s chest heave. “Everything’s fine.”

Harry felt his gut twist- had Draco been having the same dream he’d been having?

“It’s not fine,” Draco turned to look at him with wide, fearful eyes. “You- you saw The Grim. The real thing. I- I thought that was an old superstition. It’s not… it can’t be...”

“Ah,” Harry answered, frowning as his previous worries were replaced with new ones. He should probably have expected this to come up eventually, regardless of the fact that the two of them were sharing memories now. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Draco’s voice was icy.

“I know I should have, it’s just-” Harry fell silent. He had no idea what to say.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence before Draco answered.

“Right,” he said finally, looking away from Harry. “You didn’t tell me as much, back then. And we were in the middle of the ministry at the time.”

“I was going to tell you, I swear-”

Draco was still breathing very hard. “Tell me what? That you’re destined to die? That death is  _ literally  _ after you? When were you planning on that, Potter?”

“I- I don’t know,” Harry admitted. 

Draco’s hands were shaking- Harry reached forward without thinking and pulled Draco’s hands in his, and was relieved when Draco didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry I didn't tell you,” Harry said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Draco responded, but Harry could tell he wasn’t there. Draco was lost in thought so thoroughly that Harry could see the gears turning. His eyes were focused on something far away and his breath was short, ragged.

The sun still hadn’t risen over the waves and the room was dark, not even any moonlight filtering through the window. 

“You need to breathe,” Harry said quietly, lacing his fingers through Draco’s. Something about the aftermath of the night, about the memories he’d just seen, made him unsure of himself. Last night, they’d held hands, but did that mean Harry was allowed to comfort him, now? Did that mean that he could pull Draco close until his breathing slowed?

“I know,” Draco answered, clearly annoyed, but he made an effort to slow his breathing anyway. 

They sat there, unmoving, for long enough that Harry could sense a lightening of the dark. The sun would be rising soon. 

Harry’s head was pounding. Surely Voldemort, wherever he was, was furious. Their narrow escape had Harry terrified to lose his hold on the door in his mind, knowing that the rage Voldemort was feeling would take over if he did.

There were too many things to think about, but he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He couldn’t keep this from Draco.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked quietly, nervous to admit what he had on his mind. “I think… I think I saw a memory you didn’t want me to see.”

Draco seemed to wake up from whatever deep thought he was wrapped in, blinking rapidly at Harry as if just realizing he was there. 

“What?”

“I mean, er, I felt like I shouldn’t keep it from you, after-”

Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“I want to be honest with you,” Harry said. He might be pushing his luck.

Draco nodded, seemingly pacified. “What happened?”

“The memory I dreamt about, it was all blurry and weird. Some parts of it were clear, but others were missing completely, and it felt like… I don’t know, it felt like something I shouldn’t see. Something you wanted to keep private. I tried to wake up, I promise, but it was like I couldn’t get out.” The words rushed from Harry fast and nervous.

Draco was calm. “What was it you saw?” he asked.

“A party,” Harry answered, “In the Slytherin common room. Must have been last year, I think?”

“Potter,” Draco smiled faintly, “There were a lot of parties in the common room, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“You got very drunk,” Harry said quickly, avoiding Draco’s eyes. “And there was a… game. Spin the bottle.”

“Oh,” Draco said, clearing his throat. “Well, it’s not, ah, the worst memory you could have seen, but you’re right, I would… rather you not have seen that.” There was a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Harry sighed. The reaction had been better than he expected. “Maybe we should, um, keep a few memories separate? Just so we don’t accidentally see something private? I don’t know how else to control it when it’s happening in dreams.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Draco admitted. “And I’m sure you’d rather I hadn’t seen what I saw, either.”

“Because I was going to tell you,” Harry interjected.

“...Right.” Draco replied, eyes still narrowed.

Harry rubbed his thumb across Draco’s knuckles, and he took a deep breath. “Do you think they have any old potions vials in the kitchen?” he asked, “We could keep our memories in there, for now.”

“That’s a good idea,” Draco answered, genuine. 

“And I can make you some tea,” Harry said, “You still look pale.”

“Sure,” Draco answered softly, the corner of his mouth pulling upward.

Together they got out of bed, as quietly as they could, and headed down the stairs. They walked slowly, afraid every creaking floorboard would wake one of the many sleeping bodies downstairs, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat when a particularly loud squeak had Draco grabbing tight onto his hand. 

The kitchen was dark, only a faint glow from the window illuminating the room. Harry had been here long enough now that he knew where the junk drawer was, and cast a  _ muffliato  _ through the kitchen so he could rattle through it in peace.

Sure enough, there were plenty old, empty vials in the drawer, and Harry uncorked two of them and passed one to Draco.

Harry could only think of a few memories he’d rather not have Draco see; an embarrassing, hurtful day or two from the Dursley’s, his kiss with Cho Chang in fifth year,  _ most  _ of his memories with Ginny, and a few particularly personal things, like the time Voldemort’s wand had let out the ghosts of his parents. 

Draco, however, spent the next few minutes  _ pouring  _ memories into the vial, one after another. He must have had a hundred things he didn’t want Harry to see, and it shouldn’t bother Harry, that he was a private person, but it did. He trusted Draco. They’d been through so much. So why didn’t Draco trust him?

Harry didn’t say anything, just went to the stove to start making tea. His head was still aching, but maybe the warm drink would help. 

He pulled out the teapot, only to find that it was still warm. 

“Someone else is awake,” he said, turning toward Draco. 

The light clicked on, and both of them jumped.

“And  _ where _ have you two been?” Hermione demanded, entering the room with a still steaming cup of tea in her hands. “Out and about, I suppose?”

She sat down at the kitchen table, glaring at them in a way that reminded Harry eerily of Professor McGonagall.

“We, er…” Harry started, scrambling.

“Were you just waiting on us in the dark?” Draco asked, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’ve been awake for hours. Ginny and Luna woke me up when they came back inside- apparently they’d been out, too. One of them tripped on the way to bed and woke me up. It took me ages to rest again, but as soon as I was about to fall asleep, the two of you busted in the front door, making a  _ ridiculous  _ amount of noise. After that I decided it was best to just wake up, so I got dressed and made tea.” She shrugged, but despite her nonchalance, she still looked fiery. “So, where were you? You don’t look well.”

Of course, it was just their luck that at that moment Draco flinched and grabbed at his forearm, and the pain in Harry’s head became a splitting roar. He clutched at his scar, and Hermione’s eyes went wide. 

“What  _ happened?”  _ She gasped.

Ron was walking in the room behind her now, yawning. “‘Mione?” He asked, barefooted and clad in pajamas, “whaddyou doin’ up?”

He blinked slowly, and then, catching on to the tension in the room, his eyes went wide. “What just happened?” He asked, looking back and forth from Harry to Draco to Hermione. “You all look like you’ve seen You-Know-Who in the garden.”

Harry and Draco looked at each other.

Draco cracked a stressed smile. “Well,” he answered, “Not in the garden,”

“ _ WHAT? _ ” Hermione shouted.

Harry and Draco both sat down, grimacing. Harry rubbed at his forehead and Draco winced, pulling his sleeve down to cover his arm. “We can explain.”

Together they told Ron and Hermione what had happened that night- Godric’s Hollow, the snake, Voldemort. Draco told them about Voldemort summoning the Death Eaters, and showed them his arm, where the Dark Mark pulsed black and raw. 

Neither of them mentioned the Yule Ball, or the flowers Draco had brought, or the fact that they’d held hands almost the entire night. Harry felt a tiny bit of embarrassment and gratitude knowing that Draco was on the same page, and they both considered that part of the night their private moment.

By the time they were done talking, the sky was beginning to lighten outside. The sun would be breaking the horizon soon, and the rest of the house would be waking up.

Ron was still gaping at them, mouth hanging open. Hermione cleared her throat nervously.

“And your scar’s been hurting since then?” She asked Harry. “Are you okay? You’re sweating.”

Harry had been expecting her to say that  _ she told him so _ about Godric’s Hollow, so he must look nearly as bad as he felt.

“I’m fine,” Harry lied. “It’s been easier to hold his thoughts back, lately.” Well, at least that part was true. Ever since he’d been practicing with Draco, it had been easier. Tonight, though, the rage boiled on the other side of his walls, washing over him like the ocean beating the rocks on the shore. He no longer  _ felt  _ the anger Voldemort was feeling, he was getting good at cutting the ties, but he had seventeen years of experience telling him exactly why his scar was aching now.

Ron sighed sympathetically. “Mate, you look terrible. Do you think it’s going to stay this bad unless you let go? Maybe you should-“

“Ron, what if he gets hurt?” Hermione interjected. “Or worse, You-Know-Who takes over?”

Ron shrugged. “We’re here, aren’t we? The three of us can watch over him. Your scar is just going to keep hurting until you see what he’s seeing, isn’t it Harry?”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry grimaced.

“But is that a good idea, letting him in?” Hermione asked, biting her lip nervously.

“No, probably not,” Draco said, “But Potter can keep him out. It’s been hours now.” He turned and looked Harry in the eye. “If this is what you need to do, do it. We’ll be here if anything happens, and if it gets too bad, well. You know how to shut that door, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “Yeah, I think I’ve got this.” 

“Want me to knock you out if you lose control?” Ron asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry sighed. “Sure, I guess.” 

The days when Voldemort would take him over completely were past. He wouldn’t let that happen again, laughing high and cold like he did, screaming in Voldemort’s voice while passed out. It was terrifying, knowing what could happen to him, and embarrassing, to think of what his friends saw when he was out. 

But now, he had three people he trusted with his life with him. Ron looked confident and serious. Hermione looked nervous, but had her sleeves rolled up and her arms crossed as if she was ready when he needed her. Draco sat beside Harry and, though he looked nervous too, nodded to Harry with something like hope in his eyes. Draco believed in him. He knew he could do this.

“All right,” Harry said, “if you’re all sure.” It was almost a question. His three friends nodded.

“Okay. Here we go then.”

Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and relaxed. The second he wasn’t actively trying to close his mind, the door opened. 

Harry’s eyes rolled back, and he was Voldemort.

The Death Eaters were seated, heads bowed, some of them trembling, at the long table in Malfoy Manor. A fire blazed green behind them in the fireplace, as one after another more followers filed into the room, cowering as they rushed to their seats. The light made it hard for Harry to recognize anyone in particular, but he knew most of the people who would be there, anyway. 

Voldemort was ranting, voice hoarse and cracking from all of the shouting he must have been doing since the moment Harry and Draco escaped.

Another man came in through the fire, tall and broad, hunching over to get under the fireplace mantel.

“Ah,” Voldemort sighed. “Finally, someone useful.”

A ripple of fear shuddered through every Death Eater at the table. The man at the fire stood up, and Voldemort turned to look at him. 

“Greyback,” Voldemort addressed him, “I have something special for you.” He tossed Greyback a piece of clothing- a shirt, maybe? “Do you recognize this one?” He asked.

Fenrir Greyback, his wide mouth stretching over rotted, sharp teeth, grinned and leaned in to the fabric, sniffing deeply. “Yes, my lord,” he said, “Of course, the Malfoy boy.”

“Excellent,” Voldemort smiled viciously. “Young master Draco has taken up residence with Harry Potter. I want you, and as many of your disgusting friends as you can get, to track him down.”

“Of course, my lord,” Greyback licked his lips. “And when we find them?”

Voldemort laughed, soft but with an untouchable coldness, “You may do anything you like to the deserter or to Potter’s friends, as long as Potter is brought here, to me, alive and unharmed.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Greyback grinned like a feral animal. “We will be honored, no, it would be  _ my pleasure  _ to serve you in anyway I can.”

He whistled, and several others that must be the werewolves in his pack stood up from the table and followed behind him. 

Voldemort called out once more as they rounded the corner towards the door. “Oh, and Greyback?” 

“Yes, Dark Lord?” He turned back, still grinning.

“The others I don’t care about, but take your time with the Malfoy boy, will you? I wouldn’t want a traitor rewarded with a quick death.”

Greyback laughed. “No need to ask, my lord, I’ve been waiting a long time to get my hands on that one.” He let the others go ahead, looking down at his filthy nails, as sharp as claws. “Might even keep him alive a few days, I love hearing them scream, you know,” he laughed again before Voldemort’s nod dismissed him, and he left the room.

“Now,” Voldemort continued, clearly satisfied with his most recent order, pacing along the floor as he addressed the other Death Eaters. “If Draco Malfoy has indeed joined Harry Potter, there is something he has access to that we cannot let him have.”

The Death Eaters didn’t dare speak. It was only now that Voldemort had turned that Harry could see something in the back of the room- a body, on the floor, being devoured headfirst by Nagini. They all clearly feared this as their own fate, too, if they spoke out of turn.

“Bella,” Voldemort hissed, and Bellatrix Lestrange, only the tiniest bit less eager than usual, leapt from her chair.

“Yes, my dark king?” She asked, voice awed and quivering. She was standing, but her bow was so low that her face was practically touching the table anyway.

“Not long ago, I honored you with the opportunity to put some possessions of mine in your family vault.”

“Yes, my lord, I was happy to do it!”

“No doubt Lucius and Narcissa died in the fall of the Ministry,” he mused, “So until now, I was not worried about any family members of yours trying to lay claim to what is mine.”

“I… I don’t understand, my lord.” Bellatrix stammered. “The Malfoys couldn’t enter the Lestrange vault.”

“Ah yes, but you are a Black, too, are you not? You are the beloved godmother and aunt of Draco Malfoy, who has Black blood in his veins. The goblins care not for what side of a war a wizard is on, only that he can prove identity.”

“That brat is no family of mine-!”

Bellatrix was cut off with a wave of Voldemort’s wand. He’d silenced her and thrown her to the floor.

“You  _ dare  _ call me a fool!?” Voldemort thundered, stalking towards her. “Stupid, useless mongrel. What does Gringotts bank ask of you to open your vault, Bellatrix?”

She didn’t answer fast enough, so he kicked her, hard across the stomach.

“A wand, my lord,” she choked.

“Yes,” he spat, “A wand. And who has your wand right now, Bellatrix? Who knows you well enough to present that wand to a goblin and be let in to your vault, I ask?”

Bellatrix only sobbed out apologies.

“Useless,” Voldemort clicked his tongue. “You will go to the vault, and bring me my possessions. I will be moving them to a place that can  _ actually  _ protect them.”

Bellatrix whimpered as she crawled back to her place at the table. 

“Now, the rest of you,” he said, glaring daggers at the rest of the Death Eaters. “Back to your posts. If I suspect a  _ hint  _ of treachery among you, you will be fed to Nagini. And you,” he said, pointing to two people Harry didn’t recognize. “You are falling behind. I need things ready for me at Hogwarts,  _ soon.” _

He turned and looked at Nagini, and Harry tried to pull away before he gagged at the sight.

“You, my pet,” he said, “will soon enjoy some younger meals.”

 

  * \+     +



 

Harry opened his eyes, and he was back at the table, Ron, Hermione and Draco surrounding him. His head was still aching, but it wasn’t as bad, now, even though he was nauseous and exhausted.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Hermione asked, reaching for him.

“What did you see?” Ron added, leaning in.

“Ugh,” was all Harry could manage. He took a deep breath. “It was a lot,” he admitted.

“Here,” Draco said, shoving a cup of tea into his hands and helping him sit up. “Tell us what happened.”

Harry related the scene to them as accurately as he could. By the end of it, all three of them looked sick.

“Do you think-“ Hermione bit her lip. “Do you think he had a horcrux in her vault?” She asked.

“Oh he definitely did,” Harry answered, “But it’s not going to be there long.”

“Knowing Bellatrix, she’s on her way to get it now,” Draco added. “We don’t have the time to get there before she does.”

“But where else would You-Know-Who hide it? We didn’t even know to look in the vault in the first place.” Ron sighed.

“Well,” Hermione was thinking out loud, “We know where he’s hidden the others, don’t we? What can we learn from those about where he’ll hide it next?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “the way he was talking, it was like he expected us to be looking for them, now. He said he wants a place that can protect his things. Where would he put a horcrux that’s safer than Gringotts?”

“Only place safer than Gringotts is Hogwarts,” Ron interjected. “And he did mention Hogwarts, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, “but he said things weren’t ready for him there, which means whatever he’s planning at Hogwarts, he can’t start it yet. Why would he put the horcrux there when he’s not ready?”

“Maybe he’ll be keeping it on him, like the snake?” Draco asked.

“Or,” Hermione added, “Maybe he means to find somewhere that will be safe  _ from you,  _ Harry. He knew you would go to Godric’s Hollow, didn’t he? Maybe he’s counting on a place that’s somewhere he thinks you won’t go.”

“Where wouldn’t I go?” Harry asked, confused.

“I don’t know,” Hermione sighed, “but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“Something else to keep in mind,” Ron added. “We’ve gotta be more careful now. If they have Greyback after us, we’ll have to move faster, and find better places to camp. We can’t stay in one place for several weeks, anymore.”

“That’s not going to be easy,” Harry sighed. He looked at Draco, worried, and saw just how pale and nervous he looked.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry said, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “We’ve got this. He’s not going to catch up to us.” He tried to catch Draco’s eye, but he was staring down at the table, mortified.

“There is one good thing,” Ron said, looking to Draco, too. “You-Know-Who thinks your parents died in the Ministry. That means he won’t even bother looking for them. They’re safe, mate!”

Draco looked up at Ron gratefully. “You’re right,” he said quietly, “At least they’re safe.” 

It certainly wasn’t lost on Harry or Draco that Ron was the one comforting him.

“So while Bellatrix is hiding the horcrux and the Death Eaters are out looking for us, what is You-Know-Who doing? What is he planning at Hogwarts?” Ron asked, oblivious to the look Harry and Draco had just given each other.

“Probably a takeover,” Harry grumbled, “It’s what he’s always wanted, isn’t it? To take what he considered Dumbledore’s? And in the meantime, I’m sure he’s still looking for that wand.”

“He won’t find a wand that doesn’t exist,” Hermione said, and Ron rolled his eyes.

“Either way, if he’s preoccupied, all we have to do is stay out of the way of the Death Eaters, and find out where they’re taking that horcrux.” Ron said, hopeful.

Harry felt something like hope building up in his chest, too. “We have a lead,” he said. “That’s all we needed to get the others. We’ll find it.”

“We will,” Hermione smiled, standing up. “We can do this!”

“Everyone’s about to start waking up,” Draco said, looking toward the window. There was now a faint light glowing over the horizon, reflecting blue across the waves. “We should get dressed.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, stretching as he stood up. The both of them were still in their pajamas, but clearly in need of a hot shower and a good night’s rest, the smell of snow and sweat and sand still clinging to them.

Draco started heading toward the stairs, but Hermione stepped forward, catching Harry’s attention.

“Harry? Do you mind if I talk to you for a second?” she asked. 

Draco hesitated, and Harry shrugged at him.

“Go ahead, you can take the bathroom first,” he said, and Draco disappeared around the corner and up the stairs. 

Harry turned and faced Hermione and Ron. “What’s up?” he asked, suddenly nervous about why they might want to talk alone.

“Was that,” Hermione started, her lips barely turning up into a smile, “With Draco, tonight, was that a date?”

Harry  _ knew _ he was turning bright red, but he didn’t have an answer, stuttering out a nervous, “Um, er, a date?”

“Yeah,” Ron added, grinning. “Going off alone to Godric’s Hollow, after everyone’s asleep? All that touching each other you were doing?”

“Touching?” Harry squeaked. God, he was obvious.

“You had your hand on his shoulder for like, half the time you were down here.” Ron laughed and Harry blushed even harder.

“You were holding hands when you came inside last night.” Hermione added, smiling widely.

“You were  _ watching?”  _ Harry gasped, and the two of them burst into giggles.

“So it was a date, I knew it!” Hermione said, barely containing her laughter now.

“It wasn’t a date,” Harry protested, but he knew at once they wouldn’t believe him.

“Harry, it’s fine, really, it is!” Hermione was  _ beaming. _

“Not like we didn’t see it coming,” Ron added, grinning widely.

“Guys,  _ really,  _ we’re not dating. We just went out alone, that’s all.”

“So you  _ don’t  _ like him then?” Hermione asked. “We really thought you did, you know.”

“Well, he at least likes you, that’s for sure.” Ron added.

“Wait,  _ what?” _

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and then back to Harry.

There was a long, awkward silence as they stared him down.

“Okay, maybe I do like him,” Harry said, voice so quiet he could barely hear himself.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, stepping forward.

“Yeah, it’s just… I didn’t expect… I thought you’d be upset,” Harry admitted. 

Hermione sighed. “Oh, Harry. I mean, I understand, but, all the same. You’re our best friend! We’ve spent the past year on the run with you, and you thought we’d be mad about who you had feelings for?”

“Well it  _ is  _ Malfoy,” Ron shrugged, “But he’s on our side now. You just have bad taste in looks, that’s all.” he shook his head. “I swear he  _ never _ stopped looking like a ferret to me.”

“You… you really don’t care?” Harry asked, incredulous. 

“Why would we?” Ron asked in return. “I mean the history, I guess, but he’s changed, right? He apologized to all of us, he’s more than made up for it. He saved your life. So what if he was an arse at school? No big deal.”

“It’s not that,” Harry sighed. “I mean that I like someone that isn’t a girl. You don’t care about  _ that?” _

“Why would we?” Ron repeated, looking confused.

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione gasped, flinging her arms around his neck in a tight hug. “I’m sorry we ever gave you the impression that we would! I knew the muggle world had a different view on homophobia than the wizarding world, but I thought you knew, too!”

“What?” Harry broke free of her embrace. “The muggle world… what?”

“Harry, mate,” Ron grinned, shaking his head. “The whole ‘you can’t be gay’ nonsense is stupid old pureblood shit. Nobody cares who you date anymore. I mean, I’ve got  _ six siblings, _ Mum and Dad always told us that if one of us didn’t turn out gay we’d be breaking records or something. It just wouldn’t make sense, you know? There’s too many of us. They always thought it would be Percy, I think, but he’s like, the straightest one out of all of us.”

Harry couldn’t wrap his head around what he was hearing.

“I mean, there’s enough inbreeding with purebloods as it is, could you  _ imagine  _ how few options we would have if we all had to be straight, too?” Ron was counting off on his fingers. “Bill’s straight I think, maybe not though, I haven’t asked. Charlie’s ace, so he doesn’t want to date anyone, and Percy’s straight, but he doesn’t count as family as far as I’m concerned. Fred’s gay, George is bi, and I’m bi, and you know about Ginny, so.” he shrugged.

“Ace? Bi?” Harry repeated. He was so stunned at their reaction that he had no time to process what was being said.

“Oh, Hermione told me, that’s a muggle thing, the labels. Bisexual and asexual- bi is for liking your own gender and other genders, and asexual is for liking nobody. And homosexual is when you only like your own gender. Muggles say gay for that one.” Ron looked to Hermione as if for approval, and she nodded. “Wizards usually just call them all gay, like a blanket term I guess, but Hermione showed me this whole book about the culture and the muggle world’s views on it and all that stuff, and they have a label for everything, you know? It’s neat, but muggles can be really awful about it, too.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “I know, that’s why I assumed… I mean, the wizarding world is really… we’re in the middle of a war about bigots, I didn’t expect- Wait, did you say you were bi?”

Ron’s ears went red. “Well yeah, I mean, I didn’t  _ know _ until Hermione showed me the book but uh, yeah. I’ve liked a couple guys, before.”

“Did you forget about his crush on Viktor?” Hermione laughed, and Ron’s whole face got redder than his hair. 

“That wasn’t-”

“You  _ did  _ have an action figure of him,” Harry grinned.

“Shut up,” Ron grumbled, and Harry laughed.

“What about you?” Harry asked Hermione, and she smiled. 

“I’m demisexual,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s on the asexual spectrum, but basically it means I’m only attracted to people after I have an emotional connection to them.”

“Explains why she kept telling us Krum was ugly and then out of the blue was going to the ball with him,” Harry said to Ron, who snickered.

“Hey!” Hermione pouted, and the two of them laughed.

Harry hadn’t even realized how worried he’d been about the way Ron and Hermione would react until now, when relief flooded through him as they joked together. He certainly had never expected them to react like the Dursleys would, but he couldn’t have imagined a better reaction than the one he got.

And there was a word, for what he was feeling.  _ Bisexual.  _ It felt nice.

Hermione left to get dressed, and Harry yawned, left alone in the kitchen with Ron as their  _ muffliato  _ started to fade around them, and the rest of the house began to stir.

“So,” Ron said to him. The first rays of sunlight were peeking over the horizon, and the ocean turned as orange as the sun. “You like Malfoy. Gonna do anything about it?”

“I think so,” Harry sighed, “You both really thought he liked me, huh?”

“Pretty fuckin’ obvious, mate,” Ron laughed. “Hermione and I have been saying it for years. He always loved your attention, you know?”

“I guess,” Harry said, but he couldn’t help but smile. “And you really think it was a date? He was taking me there as my Christmas gift.”

“Then it was  _ definitely  _ a date.” Ron whistled. “He should have asked permission first. Where are his manners? I thought he was raised in pureblood high society.”

“Asked permission for what?” Harry asked.

“For dating you! You’re supposed to ask the family first.” Ron replied, indignant. 

Harry laughed. “You didn’t make me ask permission to date Ginny,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I didn’t, and look at her now, she’s a lesbian! At least Luna had the decency to let me know her plans ahead of time.”

Ginny strolled into the kitchen in her pajamas, eyebrows so high they were disappearing under her bangs. “Luna did  _ what now!?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jkr kiss my ass, in this canon we are /v e r y/ clear about who our lgbtqa characters are >:)
> 
> also THANK U SO MUCH for all your lovely comments and kudos, u keep me going! if you ever wanna yell at me about this fic on tumblr, i'm deluminatorillustrator there. im gonna try and make some art for this fic soon and when i do i'll be sure to post a link here too :)
> 
> also harry u fuckin idiot of course he likes you. he loves you, stupid!!! get with the program!!!


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